Captain Jen
by flying drumsticks
Summary: [Complete] Meet Jen: senior, captain of the drum line, and black belt in taekwondo. This is the story of her senior year on the battery. Please read and review, it means a lot to me!
1. Beginnings of a Line

Beginnings of a Line

A girl with bright blue dyed hair and deep green eyes picked up her marching snare drum and signaled her fellow drum line members to form their warm up arc around her. She wore faded military green shorts and a plain white tank top which turned many male heads. As a senior, and captain of the drum line, she was popular amongst almost everyone in the marching band.

"Eights!" Jennifer, known as Jen to all who were familiar with her, called out to the drummers. She tapped off the exercise and the drum line began their warm up for the three hour summer Tuesday afternoon practice.

Ten minutes later the drum line instructor, John, walked across the empty parking lot to where his students stood warming up. The line finished playing Eights and looked expectantly at John while he put his messenger bag down on the pavement. "How long have you warmed up for?" John asked.

Jen checked the watch she had strapped to the side of her drum and answered, "About ten minutes."

"Good," said John. "What have you done so far? Just Eights?"

Jen nodded. "Yeah, Eights at twelve inches and three inches."

John called to the line, "Alright, Eights at three, second half Bucks!" He nodded to Jen to count them off.

The newly formed drumline sounded dirty on the accent-tap exercise; no one was really playing together, but they looked impressive nonetheless in the June sunshine. When John was satisfied that they had warmed up their chops sufficiently, he held up his hand in a closed fist to signal the last repetition of the warm up. The line stopped playing and waited for him to say something.

"Relax, put your drums down," John instructed. The drummers sighed in relief and put down the heavy drums. "Today is a very special day," John began. Several of the upperclassmen rolled their eyes at John's cheesy line. John, however, pretended not to notice, and continued, "Today, for the first time in four years, you guys are getting your show music _before band camp_." Everyone on the battery smiled. Maybe this year they would have a chance to learn and memorize their music before section showdown, the annual competition between the eight sections of the marching band at the end of band camp in July.

Jen was especially happy. This was _her_ year: she was a senior and drumline captain, not to mention being one of only two girls in her entire section. She decided on the spot that this year would be different from her past years of marching on the drumline. This year they had a head start on their music and only three members new to the battery, two sophomores and one freshman. Jen had the distinct feeling that this was the year the drumline was going to win one of their competitions.

A moment later Jen was zapped out of her daydream when John called for the drummers to get out their pencils and pick up their drums again to sight read their new music. Jen leapt to her feet and scrambled for her drum and pencil to set the example for her line. The eleven guys and one other girl, Tiffany, grumbled but followed Jen's lead and got to their feet. As soon as the battery stood ready with their drums on, John started passing out the music. When everyone held a copy of the music he instructed, "Okay, we're going to break off into sectionals so you guys can at least hack through this before we actually read it together." He checked his watch and then said, "Come back here in half an hour ready to play just the first page. Ready, go."

"Snares in the drum room!" Jen called.

"Tenors shotgun the back classroom," Christian, the tenor lieutenant, said.

"Well, I guess that means the basses are in the main part of the band room," said Kevin, the lieutenant and only senior on the bass line. "Come on gentlemen," he said. Then with a half bow to Tiffany he added, "And lady."

The drumline members went their separate ways to sight read their freshly copied music.

In the percussion storage room Jen shut the door behind her and asked her fellow snare drummers, "Does everyone have a drum pad with them?" Three of the four other snares shook their heads. Jen sighed. "Well, that means drums and earplugs then." She set her drum and harness on the floor, climbed up to the shelf with the box of earplugs on it, and tossed down four sets of them to the other drummers. Then she grabbed a pair for herself and jumped back down to the floor. "I suggest you guys bring your drum pads next time so we can put our drums down for a little while."

"Can't we just play on the floor?" Kyle, one of the juniors, asked.

"No," Jen told him firmly. "I'd like to as much as you do, but since three of you didn't bring drum pads, the penalty is that we're going to play on our drums and not be lazy. Let this be a lesson."

The four other snares nodded and put in their earplugs.

"Hey Jen, do we have to wear earplugs?" asked Joey, the rookie sophomore. He wasn't fully a rookie though because he had been in the pit his freshmen year, but this was his first year on the battery, the section of the drumline that actually carried drums and marched on the field.

"If you want to be deaf, that's your choice," Jen said. "But personally, I'd rather be able to hear. It makes talking to people much easier."

"Yeah, I suppose it does," Joey agreed.

"Ok, let's get started then," Jen said, putting her music on the stand in front of her.

On the other end of the band room in the back classroom, the three tenors had opted to drum on the floor. Each of their thirty pound drums were neatly lined up against the wall with their music propped up against them. Christian and Eric, both seniors, helped Harrison, a sophomore, with the challenging music. Although it was Harrison's second season on the battery, he was new to tenors because he had marched first bass his freshmen year. Harrison proved to have some natural ability for playing the set of five pitched drums; he played through the new music with only minimal help from Eric and Christian.

Out in the main part of the band room the basses were having more trouble than the other two sections. The bass line music was similar to the snares' music, but spilt up between five people. Since each bass drum had a different pitch, when everyone played their part correctly it formed a groove. However, this also meant that none of the basses had exactly the same music, as the tenors and snares did.

To make matters worse, the bass line included the only freshman on the battery, Adam, on first bass. Adam had proved himself worthy of his place on the battery at auditions and he had no trouble at all playing the split parts on warm ups. But now that he had actually show music in front of him, and on one else with the same part, Adam was starting to struggle and get discouraged. "This is so hard!" he cried out in frustration. "How did I ever get on the battery? I suck at this music!"

"It's okay; this is first time we've looked at the music. We're all having a hard time with it," Tiffany, on second bass, consoled him.

"Yeah, but when you guys play it actually sounds like something. I can never play my part right; it always sounds wrong," Adam said.

"Don't worry, we're just trying to hack through it," said Jason, the junior on third bass. "You don't have to be perfect right now."

Adam regained his composure as Kevin called, "Top to A again," and counted the basses off.

Twenty minutes later the snares emerged from the drum room to go back to the parking lot. Jen opened the door to the back classroom to tell the tenors to go outside, but was distracted when she saw them drumming on the floor, their drums lined up by the wall. "Why aren't you guys playing on your tenors?" she asked them.

"Um, well…." Christian couldn't meet her eye. He knew she hated people on her line being lazy and playing on the floor.

Harrison interrupted, "Jen, do you know how heavy tenors are?"

Jen explained in a dangerously calm voice, "Yes, I am aware of how heavy tenors are, Harrison. If you wanted to be lazy and not have to carry a drum this season, you should have joined the pit. Since you three seemed to have insisted on not working hard now, you'll all run a lap around the school after practice. Perhaps next time you'll pick up your drums and play on them instead of the floor?"

The tenors looked at the floor and nodded.

"Good. Now what I really came to tell is that we're going back outside, so pick up those drums of yours and let's go," Jen said. The tenors quickly put their drums on and joined the snares and basses as they walked to the parking lot.

John, who had been working with the pit in the theater, came back outside just as the battery did. He fell in step with Jen and asked her, "How far did the snares get?"

Jen looked at her music. "We didn't get to the bottom of the page; we only made it to C."

"Alright, that's a good start for only having half and hour."

When the battery was standing at attention in their warm up arc, John asked the tenors and basses where they had played to.

"We made it halfway through B," Kevin said for the bass line.

Christian said, "We almost got to D."

John flipped through his score of the percussion music for a moment before saying, "We'll play from the beginning to B a little under tempo, and then we'll see how far we can go from there." Several worried looks from the bass line greeted this remark. "Don't worry, we'll hack through it in chunks," John quickly reassured them.

The drumlin's effort to learn their new music made the remaining hour and a half of practice seem to fly by. After rehearsal ended, Jen called her line together. "Make sure you at least look through the rest of the piece so we can play all the way through it next week. Cool?"

"Okay," the drummers nodded to their captain.

"You guys can go now, once you put your drums away. Tenors," she said with an icy look at their lieutenant, "get running."

The sophomore and two seniors put their drums down on and started to jog around the school while the rest of the battery members put their drums neatly back into their cases and went home.


	2. Taekwondo Interlude

A/N: To whoever's reading this, I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Sorry I forgot to put a note on the last chapter, I was a bit distracted when I posted it. Reviews would be highly appreciated, seeing as no one has reviewed this at all yet. Even if you say you're hating the story, it would be appreciated. Have a nice day! )

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**Taekwondo Interlude**

The next day Jen drove into a parking lot wearing a crisp, clean white uniform with a sharply contrasting black collar on it. She entered a building with lettering on the outside that said "Taekwondo" and deposited her flip flops on one of the shelves in the waiting room that led to the actual do jang. Then she scanned her ID card in so she would receive credit for the class and bowed to the American, Korean, and World Taekwondo Federation flags hanging on the wall before stepping onto the foam-type mats that completely covered the floor of the do jang. She walked over to a corner of the large room and began to stretch before the class started. Her friend Donnie, a red belt two years younger than her, came over to talk to her. "Hey Jen," he greeted her.

"Hey. What's up, Donnie?" the black belt asked.

"Not much. I've just been hanging around and being bored, the usual summer routine. How's your drum line coming along?"

"Actually," Jen couldn't help but smile, "we just got music at yesterday's rehearsal. We usually wouldn't get our music for another month or so."

Before Donnie could make another remark, Ian, the instructor and a third degree black belt, walked out of the small office and commanded everyone in the room with a single word: "Run!"

"Yes, sir!" seven voices chorused as the students all got to their feet and started jogging around the room in counter-clockwise circles.

The running group included Jen, a first degree black belt; Ryan, a red-tip; Donnie, a red belt; three brown-tips; and one orange belt. Jen and Donnie continued their conversation while they ran laps. "So you guys got music yesterday?" Donnie asked in a tone of voice that clearly said _And this matters why…?_

"Yeah," Jen explained, "this is the first time in probably six years that the drum line's actually been given music before band camp. So now we have some time to actually learn and memorize it before we have to play it in front of everyone else in the band at Section Showdown, at the end of band camp."

"That's good," Donnie said.

"Heck yes it is!"

Ian called, "Line up in belt order!"

"Yes, sir!" the students answered as they obeyed.

Jen, the highest belt rank in the class, was first in the front row. The red-tip liked up next to her. Donnie took his place behind Ryan and before the three brown-tips. Since there were no brown, blue, or green belts in this class, the orange belt lined up after the brown-tips, at the end of the second row.

"Stretching junbee," Ian instructed. Everyone obediently started the first stretch in the warm up routine. "Sheeze jut!" They obeyed the Korean command for "begin" and reached toward their toes. "Hana, dul, set, net!" they counted in Korean.

Ten minutes later Ian had led the class through stretching and basic warm up kicks, punches, and blocks. Then it was time for forms, the set patterns of techniques for each belt level that resembled shadow boxing. Since there were no white or yellow belts present, Ian decided to skip over those forms straight to orange belt form. After the class went over the form twice together, Ian commanded the orange belt to step back and keep practicing on his own. The rest of the class moved on to brown-tip form, the next rank present.

The three brown-tips were absolutely clueless as far as their form. Ian slowly led everyone through the form, demonstrating each technique. After three repetitions of this, he asked Jen and the brown-tips to go to the back of the room so that Jen could help them learn the form while the rest of the class continued to red belt form.

At the back of the room, Jen lined the three brown-tips up so she could teach them their form. "Junbee," she commanded. The brown-tips went to ready stance. "I'll go through it with you in case you get lost, okay? Brown-tip form on my count. Hana!" Jen executed the first technique of the form, and then looked at her charges to make sure they too were in the correct stance. "Dul!" When they looked uncertainly back at Jen, she explained, "Right leg front kick, and then step back into back stance and left hand outside block." The brown-tips seemed a little unsure of themselves, but got the techniques right. "Good," Jen said. "Set!"

The small group continued in this manner for five more minutes until Jen had to go back up to the front of the room to practice her black belt form. Ian, after quickly reminding the rest of the class to practice their forms and not sit against the wall doing nothing, watched Jen go through the complex movements of her form. When she finished, he critiqued the form, and then told the entire class to line up for kicking techniques. The seven students rushed to form a single file line while Ian produced a stuffed kicking shield from a corner of the room.

The class quickly went over basic techniques such as roundhouse kick, front kick, side kick, axe kick, and the jumping versions of these kicks. After this Ian asked, "Are you guys warmed up for sparring?"

Jen smiled; she loved the free form hand-to-hand combat. "Yes, sir!" she chorused with everyone else.

"Find a partner around your rank and size. Wait, how many people do we have here?" Ian quickly counted to himself. "Seven. Jen, you're my partner."

"Yes, sir," Jen said as she walked over to face him. Although Ian was five years her senior and a third degree black belt while she was only a first degree black belt, Jen was not in the least afraid to spar her larger opponent. _Besides_, she thought to herself, _it's not full contact, and even if he does beat the crap out of me it'll still be a good learning experience._

Fifteen minutes and four rounds of sparring later, class was over. Jen grabbed her flip flops and ID card from the waiting room shelf, but lingered to talk with Donnie and Ian before heading home. "That was some good sparring on your part today, Jen," Ian complimented her.

Jen grinned. "Thanks, Ian." She no longer called him "sir" since outside of class she wasn't required to use the polite taekwondo manners.

Ian stretched out in one of the metal folding chairs. "So how are you guys' summers going?" he asked her and Donnie.

Donnie replied, "Mine's pretty good. Kind of boring, but I'd rather be bored than be in school with a ton of work to do."

Jen couldn't help what next came out of her mouth, "We just got some of our drum line music yesterday, and so we actually might be pretty good this year."

"Cool stuff," Ian said. "You're captain, aren't you?"

"Heck yes I am." Jen smiled.

"So other than being busy with band, have you been up to anything exciting?" he asked.

"No, not really. I've mostly just chilled at the pool or hung out with some of my friends," Jen admitted.

"Well that's always good too," Donnie said.

Jen and Ian both nodded in agreement.

The conversation lulled into silence for a moment before Jen announced, "Well guys, I have to go home. I'll see you later."

"See ya Jen," Donnie said.

Ian nodded to her. "Bye."

"Bye guys," Jen said as she walked out to her car.

Jen turned on the radio to her favorite alternative rock station on her way home. She turned up the volume and sang along, with her windows tightly rolled up, when the song "Shadow on the Sun" by Audioslave came on.

A few minutes later Jen walked into her house through the unlocked back door. "I'm home!" she called to her parents as she tossed her keys on the counter and went upstairs to take a much need shower.

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A/N:A little taste of the taekwondo world. Hope you enjoyed. The next chapter is back to marching band . 


	3. Did You Practice?

**A/N:** Thank you **abcsnowfall**for the review. And now for some more drum line rehearsal.

**Did You Practice?**

At the next Tuesday's rehearsal, Jen had high hopes that her line had done what she had asked of them the previous week: practice their new music. When she got to the school, she parked her car by the band room and walked inside to take her drum out. John met her by the percussion room door. "Do you think everybody practiced enough for us to at least run the music in chunks?" he asked her.

"I hope so. I asked them to practice, but I don't know if anyone actually did," Jen replied.

"Well, either way, we're going to get all the way through it by the end of rehearsal. It just might be less painful if everyone practiced, or looked at the music at least," John said.

Jen smiled. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

The battery slowly gathered in the band room, pulling out drums, looking through music, or just goofing off. Barret, the sophomore on fifth bass, was the last one to walk into the band room, but luckily he wasn't late. John called to the drummers, "Everyone pick up your drums and head to the front parking lot!"

"Don't forget your music and water!" Jen added.

The thirteen battery members trooped out to the parking lot, talking and joking along the way. Jen, walking next to Tiffany, asked her, "Are you ready for some running?"

Tiffany rolled her eyes. "Are you kidding? I hate running."

"Oh, come on," said Jen with a smile. "It's not _that_ bad. Actually, I think it's kind of fun."

"Well, everyone's entitled to their own opinion," Tiffany said. "But I honestly don't see why you're so excited about running."

Jen laughed. "Tiffany, Tiffany, Tiffany. The truth is I'm not that thrilled about running, it's just easier if you pretend you actually enjoy it."

"Sure," Tiffany said sarcastically.

In the front parking lot, everyone carefully placed their drums on the blacktop and John explained, "We're going to stretch and run a lap around the school first. After that I'm going to see how well the basses know their music and Jen's going to listen to the tenors and snares. So everybody get in a circle and we'll start stretching."

As the drummers sat down in a ring Tiffany asked, "Hey, John, can we skip the whole running-a-lap thing?"

"No," John answered.

"Darn it!" Tiffany said. Then she sighed, resigned to her fate, and sat down between Kyle and Ben, the two juniors on the snare line.

"Okay, put both legs straight out in front of you and try to grab your toes!" Jen called. "And if you can't reach your toes, I'll come help you," she added, sending many of the male drummers a meaningful stare. Most of them obediently stretched down to their toes, but Adam, the un-experienced freshman, just didn't understand. Jen got up from her place in the circle and pushed on Adam's back until his hands touched his toes. Adam's eyes were screwed shut in pain and all he could manage to say was a high-pitched "Ow."

"Is that better?" Jen asked.

"Not really," he said through clenched teeth.

Jen assured him, "It'll feel better in a minute when we're done stretching. You might even feel compelled to thank me then." She took the pressure off his back and said to the group, "Everyone, come up."

The battery stretched for another five minutes and then ran a lap around the school, Jen leading the way.

* * *

When everyone had finished running, Jen led the snares and tenors uphill to the junior parking lot while the basses stayed in the front parking lot with John. Harrison walked with Christian and Eric, asking the more experienced tenor drummers questions all the way. "I just practiced on the floor because I don't have a tenor practice pad. Do you think Jen will mind?"

"You practiced, which I'm sure is more than some people did, so probably not," Christian said.

"Did we have to have the music memorized?" Harrison questioned with a worried look on his face.

"No," Eric told him.

Christian laughed. "Harrison, we've only had the music for a week. John's not going to kick you off the line if you can't play it all yet, so stop worrying so much about it."

In the junior parking lot, Jen explained the procedure of the "evaluation" to the snares and tenors. "I have to listen to all of you guys play," she began, "but not individually." Harrison and Joey, the two sophomores in the group, let out a sigh of relief. "Which section wants to go first?"

No one moved.

"Hmm, your lack of volunteering makes me think that none of you practiced," Jen said shrewdly. "_Did_ any of you practice?"

Most of the drummers nodded or mumbled something to the affirmative, but Harrison quickly explained, "I practiced on the floor at home."

"Okay, so almost all of you guys practiced, yet you _still_ don't want to volunteer? I suppose we'll have to decide which section goes first by Rock-Paper-Scissors then. Christian, Matt, come here please," Jen said.

The tenor lieutenant and senior snare drummer obeyed their captain and quickly faced off in Rock-Paper-Scissors. Christian won the match.

"Snares are going first," Jen said. "Just play straight through the piece. If anyone gets really lost or can't get back in or whatever, I'll cut you off and have you start at the last rehearsal letter you passed. Alright?"

"Okay," the snares agreed.

"Alright, I'll give you eight clicks and you're in." Jen tapped her fingers on her drum to get the tempo, and then click her sticks together eight times.

The four snares came in together with a good opening attack. As Jen scanned along the line of snares, she could tell you had practiced and who hadn't even thought about drumming for the last week. Joey had some trouble marking time while playing rolls and syncopated rhythms, but could play through the entire piece without dropping out. Matt easily played through the first half of the piece, but dropped out a few times in the second half. The two juniors hadn't practiced at all and struggled with the complicated rolls, rhythms, and combinations of rim shots, rim clicks, and stick clicks. They made the entire snare line sound dirty.

When they finished playing, Jen nodded. She asked the juniors, "You two didn't practice this week, did you?" Ben and Kyle just stared at the ground and shook their heads. "Why don't you run a lap with me after practice then?" They both mumbled something along the lines of "'Course."

"Tenors, are you guys ready?" Jen asked.

"Does it make a difference?" Eric shot back.

"No," Jen said sweetly, "but I like to at least be polite about it." All the snares and tenors grinned. Then Jen told the tenors, "It's the same deal as the snares had. You get eight clicks and you're in, play straight through the music, if you drop out then get back in, blah, blah, blah. Ready?"

"Yep," Christian answered for his section.

Jen counted them off and the tenors played the opening notes of the show.

Harrison's practicing on the floor seemed to pay off; he missed very few notes. Christian had practiced, albeit very little, during the last week so that no one could accuse him of setting a bad example. Eric had not practiced, but as a senior and seasoned tenor player, he read through the music without too many obvious errors. Jen, however, had known Eric since their freshmen year in pit together and saw through is disguise. When the tenors finished playing, she asked Eric, "Did you practice?" His eyes flicked away from hers as he drew breath to answer. "And you better not lie either. I saw you look away," Jen added in an accusing tone.

"Okay, okay!" Eric relented. "You win. I didn't practice."

Jen nodded. "I thought so. I've known you too long for you to fool me, Eric. You'll be joining Ben, Kyle, and me after practice."

"Joy, more running," Eric half mumbled.

"Well, now that that's over with, you can all breathe a sigh of relief" no one did "or not, and we'll go back to the front lot," Jen said.

* * *

Back in the front parking lot, the basses had already finished playing for John and were getting some water. John told the snares and tenors, "Grab a drink before we start tracking." The guys and Jen put down their drums and joined the basses sitting on the curb with their water bottles. Their break was short lived though; a minute later John called out the dreaded phrase, "Pick 'em up!"

The battery members took one last gulp of water, then hurried over to their drums and put them on. Once everyone was standing at attention John explained, "We're going to track around the parking lot. Take a left at the stop sign and go out to the light pole, then turn around and come back this way. Everyone understand where we're going?" The drummers nodded. "I know a lot of you already know this, but for the new people: if you're on one of the ends you'll either have to take really big or really small steps when we turn corners. Make sure you dress the lines. We're going to move continuously including the count off, unless I cut you off. Okay?"

Everybody except Adam mumbled, "Okay."

Adam asked, "Is the count off still going to be eight beats?"

"Yes," John told the freshman. "And that means I still want you guys to do sticks in and out."

Another collective mumble greeted this statement.

"Aw, come on guys, you could at least _sound_ excited about it," John said with a grin. "Alright, we'll start with Eights at twelve inches. Jen, stick to a slow tempo for now."

Jen nodded and tapped everyone off. The battery moved forward across the parking lot at their slow but steady pace. Over the next hour they played Eights, Bucks, Grid It, and Double Beat at the ever-increasing tempos John dictated. He led them around the parking lot six times, occasionally cutting them off after a bad attack, and giving them a water break every two laps. Finally, with fifteen minutes left of practice, John decided to stop tracking and work on the show music.

The battery cheered this decision and happily picked up their music and arranged themselves into the warm up arc while Jen ran back to the band room to grab stands for everyone. Once she arrived with the rack of music stands, each of the drummers snatched one off and put their music on it, then went back to attention.

John flipped through his score of the music and said, "Let's go from the beginning to C." He somehow fumbled a handheld metronome and a pair of sticks out of his pockets without putting his score down, held the metronome to his ear to find the exact tempo, and counted the battery off.

The drum line made steady progress through the piece until they had run through the whole thing in small sections. John then told them to play it from top to bottom, under tempo. Everyone looked confident about the task this time, and the run-through went better than John had hoped. When the battery finished playing, he said, "Good job, guys. And ladies," he added after receiving a menacing stare from the two female drummers. "Remember to practice this week so we don't have to go back and review all this next time. Ready, break."

The drum line broke apart to put stands away, gather up water bottles and music, and walk back to the band room. Jen, however, was not one to forget punishments she had assigned. "Kyle, Ben, and Eric, let's run!" she called.

John asked her, "Why are you guys running?"

"Because they didn't practice," Jen explained.

"Oh. In that case…" John said. "Jason, Barret! You're running with these four!"

Jason and Barret looked at each other, then at John, then at Kyle, Ben, Eric, and Jen. Jason sighed and put his drum down; he should have known something like this would come along as punishment for his laziness during the week. Barret quickly followed suit and the two bass drummers started running with the other four.

"So you guys didn't practice either, huh?" Jen asked them.

"Yeah," Jason admitted.

"Well, I bet you'll practice this week, won't you?"

Barret nodded furiously, he hated running.

Jen picked up the pace and taunted the guys, "Keep up! You wouldn't want to be out run by a girl, now would you?"

"Jen, we're not all super ninja black belts like you!" Eric countered.

"Oh, so you think that being a black belt automatically makes you a better runner?" Jen asked.

"Maybe," Eric said.

Jen just laughed and started sprinting; the end of the lap was in sight.

The five punished runners and their captain finished with the lap around the same time. They all drank some water and put their drums back on before heading to the band room. "That was fun," Jen said.

"Only you would say that, Jen," Jason said.

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**A/N**: Hope you enjoyed. I would tell you the topic for the next chapter, but I'm not really sure...I'm open to suggestions! 


	4. The Call

**A/N: **Thank you **Percussion Chick** for reviewing the last 2 chapters. :)

Let the drama begin. I've head this written for almost a week, but has been evil and unaccepting of documents, so... But I finally got it on here, so hope you enjoy!

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**The Call**

A few days later, Jen was at school for a marching band student leadership meeting. Naturally, she arrived a few minutes early and decided to use the time to practice. She walked into the drum room, found a pair of sticks and someone's drum pad, and climbed up onto a shelf. Jen was concentrating hard on her music when Kayla, one of the three drum majors, walked in the room. "Jen," she called to her friend, "we're starting the meeting now, so if you'll tear yourself away from your drumming for a few minutes and join us, that would be lovely."

Jen looked down at her fellow upcoming senior and said in a mock regretful voice, "Well, if you _insist_, I suppose I can't refuse you Madam Drum Major."

Kayla smiled and rolled her eyes. Jen put her sticks and practice pad to the side and jumped down from the shelf. The two girls went back into the main part of the band room for the meeting.

The meeting was basically reminders that everyone had to have at least four sectionals before band camp, and then a massive game of Tips with the drum majors, section leaders, and lieutenants. Jen left the band room smiling.

In the car on her way home, Jen put in her Avenged Sevenfold CD and skipped to her favorite song on it, "Bat Country." But her Tips-induced carefree mood was not to last long. Her cell phone rang at the traffic light next to the school.

Jen picked it up. "Hello?"

A desperate, tear-thickened voice answered. "Jen!" It was not a voice she readily recognized.

"Who is this?" she carefully asked.

"Mike, Christian's little brother."

"What's going on, Mike?" Jen could not think of any reason why Christian's little brother would call her. Or how he would have her cell phone number, for that matter.

"Jen, Christian…Christian and I were walking to the park to play baseball, and when we were crossing the street…." Mike stopped.

"Mike, _what happened?_" Jen was getting worried by now. "You have to tell me what happened."

"A car…" Mike sobbed. "It came out of nowhere, and Christian…got hit. And they just drove away. They didn't even stop! Jen, I don't know what to do!"

"Call an ambulance. Where are you?" Jen asked.

"At the Jupiter and Hillock corner."

"Okay, I'll be right there. Call 911," Jen told Mike.

"Okay," he whispered before he hung up.

Jen quickly drove to the corner Mike had specified and got there before the ambulance. A terrible sight awaited her. Christian was lying face down in the middle of the street, his limbs tangled around him. Mike was crouching desperately over his older brother, unsure of what to do. Jen heard the siren of the ambulance in the distance. She ran out to Mike and tried to find out exactly what had happened.

Mike, however, seemed to be in a state of shock and could not tell Jen much of anything more than she already knew.

While Jen was unsuccessfully gathering information, the paramedics arrived. The blue-uniformed men raced over to Jen and Mike, who were crouched over Christian's unconscious form. Jen and one of the paramedics gently drew Mike away while the others put Christian on a stretcher and into the ambulance. "Do you know him?" the paramedic asked Jen and Mike.

Jen answered for both of them, "It's his brother. He's my friend from drum line."

The paramedic nodded. "Why don't you both come to the hospital with us then and tell us what happened."

Mike numbly nodded and the three of them climbed into the back of the ambulance with the rest of the paramedics.

On the way to the hospital, Mike did his best to explain what had happened. "So it was a hit and run," the paramedic said. "It looks like he got pretty beat up."

Another one of the paramedics said, "His pulse is fine, but his breathing could be better. I'd say he has at least a few broken ribs and a broken leg. His arm left is probably fractured."

At the hospital, Christian was taken into the emergency room, but Jen and Mike had to wait in the waiting room outside. Mike stared into space, shock making him numb. Jen hugged him tightly while they waited to hear just how badly damaged Christian's body was. Jen's cell phone rang while they sat in the cold room.

Jen looked at the number; it was from her mother. "Mom?"

"Jen, where are you?" her worried mother asked.

"Mom, I'm at the hospital with Christian and his brother Mike. Christian got hit by a car," Jen explained.

Her mother gasped. "Should I drive out there?"

"No, don't worry about it Mom. I'll be home in a while," Jen assured her.

"Alright, as long as you're sure…."

"I'm sure. Bye, Mom."

"Bye, sweetie."

After Jen hung up the phone, a doctor came out into the waiting room. He asked Mike, "Are you Christian Reynolds' brother?"

Mike nodded.

"And you must be the girl he came in with," the doctor said, looking at Jen. She nodded. "Well, Christian's going to be alright, but he'll have to stay here for at least a few nights. He has three broken ribs, all on the left side. That's what we're most worried about because they're making it hard for him to breathe."

Jen nodded again. "What else?"

"A dislocated shoulder and fractured leg."

Jen and Mike both grimaced. "Did you call our parents yet?" Mike whispered, breaking his long silence.

"Yes, they should be here any minute," the doctor said.

Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds walked through the emergency room door five minutes later with extremely pale faces. They both hugged Mike tightly and asked the doctor what exactly had happened. While he explained the situation, Christian's parents got even paler. "Can we see him?" Mr. Reynolds asked.

"Of course," the doctor told him. "He's been stabilized and taken to a room on the floor above this one. I'll take you to it."

Mr. Reynolds nodded. "Okay."

Mike, his parents, and Jen all followed the doctor up a flight of stairs and down a very clean, white corridor to Christian's room. The doctor opened the door for them and then went back downstairs to give them time alone.

"Christian?" his mother whispered.

Christian stirred and opened his eyes. "Mom? Dad? Mike, Jen? What are you guys doing here?"

Mike told his brother, "I fished your cell phone out of your pocket and called Jen after you got hit. She was the one who had a clear head and told me to call an ambulance."

Christian looked at Jen. "Thanks," he said.

"I-it was nothing," Jen stammered. "I-I guess this means you're not going to be marching any time soon?" She attempted a weak smile.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Our senior season too. Some luck I have, huh?"

Jen didn't answer; silent tears choked her.

"Jen, are you _crying_?" Christian asked. "You never cry, why start now?"

Jen sniffed as the tears ran down her face. "This can't happen," she whispered. "This year was going to be perfect, why did this happen? Why?" The horror of it all was finally dawning on Jen. Christian, one of her closest friends since her freshman year, had been hit by a car. The injuries from the accident were severe enough to prevent him from marching for at the first half of the season, after which it would be too late for him to learn all the music and drill in time competitions. And after this year, their senior year, Jen would never get to march with Christian again unless they went to the same college or marched in a drum corps together, both extremely unlikely events. This terrible reality made Jen cry even more.

"Jen, don't cry," Christian almost begged her. "It hurts me even more when you cry. Please, stop. I'll be alright, don't worry."

"I'm sorry, I can't help it," Jen chocked out. "But I can't imagine this year without you. Christian, we need you, you're our best tenor player. And I need you. You've always been there for me, and it seems like I've never returned the favor."

"Jen, I can't imagine not marching either. I love drum line as much as you do, so I'm going to march this year. I'll manage it somehow. I'll be there, and I know you'll be there to help me catch up on whatever I have to miss. What else is a captain good for?" Christian grinned at her.

Jen nodded through her tears. "You better be there, Christian Reynolds."

"That's the captain I know."

* * *

**A/N:** Nothing like some drama to get things moving, right? Hope you enjoyed, and sorry for the late update. 


	5. Good News, Bad News

**A/N: **I'm so sorry it took me forever and a day to update, I've been quite busy lately, not to mention writer's block. Hope you enjoy and please review!

**Good News, Bad News**

Jen, Christian, Christian's parents, the band director, and John sat around the band director's desk in his office.

"Christian, how long do you think it will take you to recover?" Mr. Tows, the band director, asked.

"The doctor told me absolutely no marching for at least a month, so the bones in my leg will be properly set," Christian explained. "After that I'll be good to go."

"So you should be able to march by the middle or end of band camp?"

Christian nodded.

Mr. Tows turned to John and Jen. "Since Christian, your tenor lieutenant, will miss most if not all of band camp, what do you propose to do for the good of the drum line?" he inquired.

"My biggest concern is learning drill," John said. "If he misses more than two days of the drill week of band camp, it'll be extremely hard for him to catch up."

"But you're not worried about him missing the music week?" Mr. Tows asked doubtfully.

"Christian's good enough to get up to speed on the music we'll learn that week. That is, if he _practices_," John said with a meaningful glare in Christian's direction.

"I'll practice, don't worry!" Christian quickly promised.

"And I can help with sectionals or whatever you need me to do," Jen added.

Mr. Tows thought it over for a minute. "Alright," he said. "Christian, you have until day three of the second week of band camp to recover. That's about four and a half weeks from now, are you up to it?"

"Yep," Christian said.

"John, is it alright for Christian to miss a month of rehearsals?"

John nodded to Mr. Tows. "As long he practices. Christian, I want you to take your tenors and a stand home today so you'll have no excuse _not_ to practice."

"And Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds, are you okay with Christian marching by the end of band camp?" Mr. Tows asked.

Christian's parents looked at each other. His father said hesitantly, "We'll have to see how he's doing then, but providing he recovers we have no problem with him marching."

"Well, that settles that," Mr. Tows said. "Jen, don't forget about your mandatory section get-togethers before band camp."

"Yes, sir," Jen said before she stood up and filed out the office door with everyone else.

* * *

After the next Tuesday's rehearsal, Jen gathered her line in the drum room for announcements.

"Alright guys, that was a great rehearsal. I really appreciate the fact that you guys weren't screwing around the whole time; we're much more productive that way. Now, do you want to hear the good news or the bad news first?"

"Bad news," Harrison said. "Might as well get it over with."

At the same time, Joey said, "Good news!"

"Uh," Jen said, undecided. "I'm gonna agree with Harrison. Let's get the bad stuff over with first." She paused. "I'm sure you guys all noticed a certain tenor lieutenant by the name of Christian Reynolds was not here today. For those of you of haven't heard, last Thursday Christian was hit by a car. He broke his leg, fractured his left arm, and broke a few ribs. Needless to say, he won't be marching for awhile. But he's hoping to be able to march by the middle of band camp, so he at least gets to keep his spot on the battery." There was a collective sigh of relief from the assembled drummers.

"And now for the good news," Jen announced. "We'll be having the first of our three section 'bonding activities' or whatever you want to call them this Friday. We're going to the bridge on Old Highway 3 where we can jump off into the river. So if you want to come, wear your swimsuit and if you're not fond of running through weeds barefoot, an old pair of sandals that won't fall off. Just meet at the bridge at 4:30 on Friday afternoon. It'll be fun, and we'll probably go out to Stake and Shake or something after."

"Wait, wait, wait," Tiffany interjected. "Did you say we're going to jump off a _bridge_?"

"Into the river," Jen added for her. "It's safe, don't worry."

"And how high is this bridge?" Tiffany asked.

"Tiffany, you've driven over that bridge before," Jen said. "It's like twenty or twenty-five feet into the river. It's not that bad."

"So jumping off a twenty foot bridge is your idea of fun?"

"Yeah, basically," Jen said with a shrug. "See you guys on Friday."

* * *

As though Jen had issued a challenge by inviting her section to the bridge, every member of the battery was there on Friday at 4:30. Tiffany looked scared out of her mind.

"It's only twenty feet," she whispered to herself. "Twenty feet. Probably not even that."

The drum line stood on the ledge of the bridge, some leaning against the guard rail behind them, others holding on to it with a death grip. "Are you guys ready?" Jen called. Most of the guys looked excited. Jen glanced at Tiffany standing beside her. "Tiff, you're not scared are you?"

Tiffany nervously shook her head. "Are you sure it's only twenty feet?"

"Something like that," Jen said. "Okay, jump in on the count of three. Ready? One, two, three!" All except one person leaped off the bridge into the river below. Tiffany still stood on the ledge, gripping the guard rail. _Twenty feet. Just twenty short feet. It can't be that bad. All I have to do is let go of the rail and jump. One, two, three! _Tiffany didn't move. She couldn't convince herself to do it.

Meanwhile, the others had all scrambled up the bank and were back on the bridge. "Tiff, what happened?" Joey teased. "Forget to jump?"

"Yeah, sure," Tiffany said sarcastically.

The drummers got ready to jump in again. "One, two, three!" Kyle yelled. There was a giant splash as ten bodies hit the water. Tiffany, yet again, had not jumped. Suddenly a figure came up from behind her and pushed her over the ledge.

Tiffany screamed and wind milled her arms frantically on her descent. When she resurfaced, she peered up at the bridge to see who had pushed her in. "I hate you, Jason!" she yelled to her fellow bass drummer.

"Love you too, Tiffany!" Jason yelled back as he jumped over the guard rail.

When everyone climbed out of the river for the last time an hour later, they were more than ready to dry off and get some food. The upperclassmen drove the underclassmen to the nearby Stake and Shake to get milkshakes and burgers. Everyone inside the fast food restaurant stared at the drum line as they walked through the door in dripping wet swimsuits and towels.

Harrison was the first to order. By the time Joey, at the end of the line, came to sit at the table with his food Harrison was already finished. Jen noticed this and commented to Tiffany, "Why do guys eat so fast? Honestly, my dog takes more time to eat than Harrison does."

Tiffany giggled, and the male drummers stared at her. "What's so funny?" Harrison inquired as he threw his trash away.

Tiffany smiled. "Nothing, nothing at all."

The guys exchanged a look that clearly said _I don't understand girls._

Jen and Tiffany exchanged one that said _Guys are so oblivious._


	6. Band Camp Day One

**A/N:** Band camp has finally started! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter of rehearsal-ness.

**Band Camp Day One**

_The world, for an endless moment, stood still. There was no sound, no movement, only emptiness. Then everything happened in no time at all. Hearts, once beating, ceased, and the deadly quiet descended over everything. And in that moment, she knew everything. But in that moment, she knew nothing._

Jen awoke from her dream. _I've been reading too much manga, _she thought. _How could I know everything and nothing at the same time…?_ She rolled over and glanced at the digital clock on her desk. _It's only 6:00 AM. I can still sleep another hour before I _have_ to get up._

* * *

When Jen's alarm rang an hour later she groaned, but got out of bed in a resigned way to turn it off. _First day of band camp, the only time during the summer I would actually get up this early, _Jen mused as she stretched. She walked into her bathroom, yawning as she turned on the water for the shower, waiting until it was hot enough to boil a lobster before getting in.

Fifteen minutes later Jen emerged from her room and padded quietly downstairs to fix herself some breakfast. The house was silent and empty except for Jen and her German Shepard, Cadet. Jen's parents had left for work before she even woke up that Monday morning.

In the kitchen Jen grabbed a cereal bar and juice box from the pantry and tossed them into her backpack along with her music, drum pad, sticks, sunscreen, and Nalgene bottle full of ice water. Cadet sat in the middle of the kitchen floor attentively watching Jen's every move. When Cadet let out an indignant bark that clearly said, "Hello! Aren't you forgetting someone?", Jen finally noticed the hungry stare her dog was giving her. "Cadet, did anyone feed you this morning? I bet you're hungry," she said.

Cadet raced over to her bowl and wagged her tail hopefully in response.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming," Jen said as scooped a cup of dog food out of a trash can in the corner labeled Cadet. Cadet obediently sat down in front of her dish while Jen poured the dry food into it. "There ya go."

Jen dropped the cup back into the trash can and looked at the microwave clock. "7:20! I have to be at school in ten minutes!" she cried. She raced back upstairs to pull her hair up in a ponytail and brush her teeth. Less than five minutes later she came flying back downstairs, pausing to grab her backpack and car keys before running out the back door. "Bye, Cadet!" Jen called as the door slammed.

Luckily Jen lived very close to her school and arrived there only two minutes late. She hastened inside the band room and joined the already-in-progress student leadership meeting.

Mr. Tows raised an eyebrow at her. "You're late, Miss Edwards. Or perhaps you didn't get the memo?" he teased. "Leadership meets at _7:30_, the rest of the band comes at _8:00_."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Jen said. "I had a bit of a hectic morning."

"Well, I expect you also know our policy regarding tardiness. Ten push ups

for—"

"Every minute I'm late," Jen finished for the band director. She glanced at the clock. "So that's twenty push ups. I know."

As Jen dropped to the floor to start her punishment, Mr. Tows said, "Okay then. I guess you won't be late again, will you?" He waited for the red-faced and embarrassed Jen to finish her push ups and take a seat with the other section leaders before continuing the meeting.

The meeting turned out to be a fifteen minute pep talk about how they should all at least act enthusiastic about band camp to set a good example for the members of their sections. Then Mr. Tows handed out copies of the schedule for Day One of band camp. Jen glanced at hers.

Band Camp Day One

8:15-9:00 warm up/stretch, run, push ups, sit ups

9:00-10:00 basic marching (forwards)

10:00-11:00 basic marching (backwards)

11:00-11:45 introduce stop and go

11:45-1:00 lunch

1:00-3:00 sectionals: flutes – chorus room

clarinets – gym 1

saxes – gym 2

low reeds – wrestling room

low brass – cafeteria

mellos – media center

pit – orchestra room

battery – drama room

guard – band room

3:00-5:00 full ensemble – cafeteria

5:00 GO HOME!

"We're inside for the afternoon block?" Jen asked. This was news to her; the drum line was usually outside tracking in the afternoon.

"Yes, due to the extremely high temperatures predicted for today, as in high of 97 degrees, we're spending the afternoon inside working on music," Mr. Tows clarified.

"I'm going to _love_ afternoon block! Air conditioning is my favorite," Jen said.

Mr. Tows ignored Jen's last comment for his part. "Well, you're dismissed," he told the leadership students. "Section leaders, don't forget to take attendance and turn it in to one of the drum majors during lunch."

The leadership team dispersed to the separate storage rooms or corners of the band room to wait for the rest of their sections to gather. Band camp had begun.

* * *

The day passed by surprisingly quickly. In the morning, Jen led the pit and battery through stretches, a mile run around the school and parking lots, and fifty sit ups and push ups. Then the pit went inside to rehearse in the orchestra room while the battery picked up their drums and went to the stadium to work on marching and playing fundamentals for the rest of the morning block. Everyone in the band ate lunch in the air conditioned cafeteria.

All the battery had to talk about during lunch was the upcoming section sleepover, scheduled for that Friday night after the section showdown.

"We're definitely doing the gallon challenge this year," Eric declared. Then he looked at Matt. "I mean, if your parents are cool with that."

Matt, whose parents had graciously offered to host the thirteen drummers at their house Friday night, said, "I don't think they'll mind as long as we go outside for it."

"Alright!" Kevin said. "We haven't done the gallon challenge since freshmen year!"

Adam looked skeptically at the seniors. "What's the gallon challenge?"

Eric grinned at the freshman's innocent look. "You get an hour to try to drink a gallon of milk, and then you have to keep it down for another hour after that. But it's basically impossible to drink a gallon of milk in hour…."

"Not completely impossible though," Jen interrupted. "Emma didn't throw up all night, and she drank like the whole gallon of milk."

Adam looked confused. "Who's Emma?" he asked Jen.

"She was a junior on the bass line my freshman year," Jen explained. "I miss Emma. She was so cool."

"Whatever," Jason said. "She hated me my freshman year."

"But she drank a gallon of milk and didn't throw up?" Adam asked.

"Yeah, she did," Matt said. "I remember that."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Adam said. "If she could do it, then I bet I can too. I want to try it!"

Eric just laughed and shook his head. "It's a lot harder than it sounds, believe me."

Tiffany, the most organized member of the battery, took out a piece of paper and a pencil from her music binder and wrote down everyone's name and the type of milk they wanted if they wanted to try the gallon challenge. "Everybody has to pay for their own milk though," she warned. "I'm not spending a ton of money on milk. Just bring in $3.00 by Thursday if you want me to buy the milk for you for Friday."

"Okay," several people agreed.

All too soon the hour and a half lunch break was over. They battery stood at attention with their drums on in the drama room, and at exactly 1:00 Jen started counting off Eights. John, leaving the pit at the mercy of their section leader Chase in the orchestra room, was pleased to hear the battery warming up instead of slacking off when he walked into the drama room.

John cut them off at the end of that rep of Eights and said, "You guys can relax." The drummers all put their sticks away, and the tenors pulled their drums up. "I'm going to be floating between here and the orchestra room with the pit during sectionals. I want you guys to work on the first movement until you can play it top to bottom at tempo. Then you can start on the second movement. Oh yeah, contrary to popular belief, we are _not_ ensembling with the band at 3:00, we're just putting the pit and battery together then. So you guys need to be set up and ready for a _downbeat_ in the orchestra room at3:00, not moving stuff there at 3:00."

"Alright," Jen lightly agreed. "Can we break off into sub-sectionals?"

"Yeah, I guess so," John said.

"Cool," Jen said.

Once John walked back across the hall to the orchestra room, Jen came up with a plan for sectionals. "Okay, we're gonna finish warming up then we'll split into subs for half an hour. Then we'll come back in here for the last hour before we go with the pit, sound good?"

"Yep," Joey said.

"Alright then," Jen said. She took her sticks back out. As she counted off, she called, "Snorkel!"

Ten minutes later the drum line split off into their own sectionals. The snares staked out an unlocked classroom down the hall, the tenors moved to the chorus room, and the basses stayed in the drama room. None of them really got much done with the music, but everyone had fun goofing off. What else were sectionals for, anyway?

The battery reassembled at 2:00 and worked studiously on the first movement of their show. At 3:00 when they joined the pit, they could play it at tempo without it sounding like a dying cat.

The first time the pit and battery played the music together sounded atrocious. The freshmen in the pit didn't know where to listen to with the drums drowning out practically everything else. John cut them off when they got to letter B. "Pit, you guys need to listen to battery and know how your part fits with theirs because you'll have to listen to them on the field. Battery, don't listen to the pit, you can't listen to them on the field because of the sound delay. Listen to each other and lock in with the met. Try it again from A." John nodded to Jen, who turned on the metronome and counted everyone off.

The pit eventually learned how their music fit in with the battery's parts, and it sounded better overall. By 5:00, the percussion section as a whole could play through the entire opener at tempo without falling apart.

John signaled Jen to turn off the met so everyone could hear him. "That was a good rehearsal, guys. Less talking, especially in the pit, would be better, and I expect everyone to be quiet in future rehearsals. Go home and get rested up for tomorrow, and don't forget to look at the second movement! Ready, break."

**A/N:** Hope you guys like this chapter...the next should be more eventful. Section sleepover and the gallon challenge! And reviews are always loved .


	7. Section Showdown

**A/N:** Please consider this chapter a work in progress. I'm not sure yet if I want to add the next part to it, or just make it another chapter. Also, I might not be updating a lot after this because school starts sigh tomorrow. Well, happy reading (and reviewing!)

**Section Showdown**

The first week of band camp passed in an exhausting blur. When 5:00 Friday afternoon finally came, Jen and Chase gathered the percussionists in the drum room to discuss section showdown before they all left for dinner. Once everyone was present and the door tightly shut, Jen asked without preamble, "What are we going to wear for section showdown tonight?"

"Let's dress up as superheroes," a sophomore from the pit suggested.

"Cross-dress!" Ben yelled.

"Are you kidding me? I'm not wearing a skirt in public!" Kyle retorted.

"How about the seniors wear all black?" Kevin called.

"Yeah, then everyone else can wear all white," Tiffany added.

Jen and Chase looked at each other. "Everybody shut up! Let's take a vote," Chase called over the noise. "We have three choices: superheroes, cross-dressing, or seniors in black and everyone else in white. So, superheroes?" About five underclassmen from the pit raised their hands. "Cross-dressing?" Ben raised his hand first, along with half the battery. After some elbowing two more freshmen from the pit followed suit. "Black and white?" The other six members of the battery and the 3 remaining people in the pit put their hands up.

Jen counted. "Nine. Black and white wins by two. So, seniors wear all black, everyone else wear all white, okay?"

"Not okay!" Barret interrupted. "I don't have any white pants or shorts."

"Neither do I," several other underclassmen added.

Jen thought for a moment.

"Why don't we wear black shorts and white shirts?" Christa, a freshman in pit, suggested.

Chase nodded. "That'll work. Did everybody hear that?" he called. "All of us non-seniors are wearing black shorts and white shirts."

"Okay, that's it," Jen said. "Be back here at 6:30, we're performing first at 7:00!"

At 6:25, Jen entered the band room wearing black Soffe shorts and a black tank top. As she looked around the already-crowded and noisy room for Tiffany, Adam and Kevin walked through the door, the senior in a button-down black shirt, black jeans, and dark sunglasses, the freshman in black gym shorts and a white Yamaha percussion t-shirt. Jen whistled at her fellow senior. "Looking good, Kevin."

Adam added, "But no one told him it's July, not November."

Jen pretended to look shocked at Adam's first outburst of sarcasm. "Whoa! He _can_ make a joke after all! Adam's finally losing his freshman shell." She wiped an invisible tear from her eye. "Kevin, our little freshman's growing up!"

Adam shot Jen an insulted look that said _I am NOT little._

"I'm just messing with you, Adam," Jen laughed.

Within ten minutes almost everyone from the percussion section had arrived. Chase looked at his watch. "Pit!" he called. The mostly-freshmen section looked at him. "We have fifteen minutes to get everything down to the stadium, so let's get going." The junior led the way to the orchestra room, the rest of the pit following him.

Jen walked to the front of the band room, stood on a chair, and yelled across the room, "Hey drum line!" Many band members, not just percussionists, looked at her. "Meet me in the drum room!" The battery obeyed their captain and headed for the drum room. Inside, Jen told her section, "Get your drums and head down to the stadium."

"Do we need our music for the second movement?" Joey asked. "It says on the board that we're playing it."

"No," Jen said. "The band's playing it, but we're not since we've only played through it with them once." Jen took her snare off the shelf and then remembered something. "Oh, yeah! Seniors, stay here for minute after everyone leaves."

Once all the pit and battery members had reached the stadium, they only had five minutes to warm up before their performance of the opener from memory for the rest of the band. The pit played Green scales and Lock Jaw while the battery faced the other direction to play Eights and Triplet Rolls. Mr. Tows cut them off a few minutes later so that he could address the assembled crowd of parents, siblings, and band member themselves in the stands.

"Put your drums down," Jen said. Then she and the other seniors walked off the field to stand on the track near Mr. Tows and the drum majors.

Mr. Tows said to the crowd, "You guys are in for a treat tonight. Everyone in this band has worked so hard this week, and I'd just like to say that I'm proud of how much progress you guys have made." Everybody in the stands, parents and band members alike, cheered. "Anyway," Mr. Tows continued, "tonight each section will perform the first movement of our show from memory and they'll be judged on musical accuracy by out staff of instructors." The director gestured to the press box, and the instructors waved to everyone. "Then at the end of the night before we announce the winners, we'll put it all together so you can hear what it sounds like with the whole band. So, first up we have percussion. Percussion, are you ready to take the field in sectional competition?"

The four percussion seniors answered with their senior salute.

Jen and Matt started their choreographed fight while Eric refereed and Kevin stood behind them. When Jen knocked Matt out and he fell dramatically onto the track, Kevin stepped into the ring, looking like Mr. Anderson from the Matrix in his long sleeves and sunglasses. He threw a slow motion punch and Jen did a Matrix-style backbend to dodge it. They continued through their slow motion fight, ending with Kevin pretending to kick Jen across the nose. Jen's hands flew to her face as though she had a bloody nose and fell down across from Matt, trying to keep a straight face.

Eric grabbed Kevin's hand and held it up over his head to declare, "Winner!" Then Kevin stepped forward and snapped out a drum major salute. The crowd laughed and clapped as the senior ran back onto the field.

While the battery picked up their drums, Kayla climbed onto the podium to conduct the percussionists, leaving Jack and Taylor, the other two drum majors, behind on the track. Kayla brought her hands up when the percussionists were ready and yelled, "Mark time, mark!" From there, everything proceeded to go wrong.

Bobby, the freshman playing concert bass drum in the pit, missed the impact hit on the downbeat. Harrison dropped one of tenor mallets on the sticks out, leaving Eric to play by himself for the first two measures. Mark, the sophomore on xylophone, forgot half his notes during the pit run at A. Jen lost count of how many measures had gone by during the silence where the woodwind feature was, and by sheer luck Matt got the sticks out on the right measure and the rest of the snare line followed him. By the end of the piece nearly everyone was lost.

Kayla conducted the opener to the end, even though no one could figure out where they were for the last ten bars. When Kayla cut off, Jen took out her sticks and yelled, "Runaway!" as she tapped off the cadence. The battery members quickly composed themselves sufficiently to play the new cadence. At the end they yelled out, "Runaway!" and, fittingly, raced off the field.

As they put their drums down under the stadium, Jason commented dryly, "_That_ went well."

"Oh, yeah, let me tell you about it," Tiffany said sarcastically.

"Oh well, it's not much worse than last year," Matt said. "I think the salute was pretty good though."

Jason laughed. "Too bad we don't get extra points for a cool senior salute."

The drum line sat down in the stands to watch the other sections perform. For the most part, they did better than the percussionists. When Mr. Tows announced the winners after the full band run through of the opener, no one was surprised when the drum line was not called.

"Well, now that we have that terrible performance out of our systems, we can do better at the next one," Jen said as they walked back from the stadium.

"That's one way to put it," Kyle said. "At least we have section sleepover to look forward to tonight."

**A/N:** This chapter was inspired by section showdown my freshman year. We screwed up almost as bad as Jen and her line. And I have to know...what did you think of the cadence? Reviews are very much loved ;)


	8. The Gallon Challenge

**A/N:** I'm so sorry for the looooong time between updates. Between school, homework, and marching band rehearsals, I rarely have a minute to spare. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter...and FYI it's a tad gross. Just a tad, nothing more. Okay, well read and enjoy (and review! Reviews are my favorite!)

* * *

The Gallon Challenge

An hour later Jen arrived at Matt's house. His mother opened the door when Jen rang the doorbell. "Hi, Jen," she greeted her. "Everyone's downstairs in the basement. You can put your stuff in there." She pointed to a small side room with a coffee table and piano in it, already piled high with shoes and overnight bags. Jen slipped off her tennis shoes and put them with her backpack in the light green room. Then she made her way downstairs and found that everyone on the battery except Jason was already there.

"Jen!" several of the guys yelled from a couch in front of the big screen TV they were playing Tekken on.

Tiffany, Harrison, and, to Jen's surprise, Christian were watching Fullmetal Alchemist in the other room while Kevin and Barret played pool.

"Christian!" Jen exclaimed. "I didn't know you were gonna be here!" The drum line captain gave her favorite tenor player a hug and sat down next to him on the floor.

"Are you kidding, Jen? I wouldn't miss section sleepover for the world. This is the best part of band camp!" Christian smiled. "I saw you guys at section showdown. _That_ was interesting."

" 'Interesting' meaning 'terrible horrible awful'?" Tiffany asked, half joking.

"Well…" Christian stalled. He didn't really want to finish his sentence.

Jen, trying to save her friend from an awkward moment, quickly changed the subject. "What episode is this? I don't think I've seen it before."

"I'm pretty sure it's seven," Harrison said. "The one where Tucker turns Nina and Alexander into a chimera so he can keep his State Alchemist license."

"Hmm." Jen thought for a moment, then said, "Yeah, I haven't seen it."

When the show ended twenty minutes later, Tiffany stood up and pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of her jean shorts. "I'm going to get the milk," she announced. "Did everybody already tell me what kind they want?"

Most of the guys nodded, but Barret called, "I changed my mind! I want regular milk, not chocolate."

"That's probably a good choice," Tiffany said, scratching a note on the paper. "Okay, I'm leaving. Anyone want to come?"

"I do!" Jen jumped to her feet and went upstairs with Tiffany.

* * *

On the way to the grocery store in Tiffany's blue Jeep Cherokee, Jen thought of something and casually asked, "Hey Tiffany, how long have you had your license?"

"Um, not six months," Tiffany replied. "I got it like two months ago, after my birthday. Don't tell anyone I gave you a ride."

"Don't worry about it," Jen said. "Let's just hope none of the guys tell."

Tiffany nodded and turned on the radio as their conversation lulled into silence. The song "Death of Seasons" by A.F.I. filled the quiet car.

When they pulled into the parking lot, Tiffany laughed as something occurred to her.

"What's so funny?" Jen asked.

Tiffany shook her head. "People are gonna think we're crazy, buying ten gallons of milk for no apparent reason."

"Oh well. It won't be the first time that's happened – people thought I was crazy when I dyed my hair blue," Jen said. Her hair had faded back to its' natural light brown color since she had dyed it bright blue two months ago.

Tiffany smiled and shook her head again. "Blue hair…. My parents would kick me out of the house if I dyed my hair blue."

"Mine just about did," Jen said. "They were _so _mad."

"I can imagine," Tiffany said. She pulled the scrap of paper with everyone's requests on it from her pocket. "Okay, we need two gallons of skim milk, three gallons of two percent, four gallons of whole milk, and one gallon of chocolate. You guys are going to be so sick," she said.

"Well, that is kinda the point of the gallon challenge," Jen said. "Besides, it wouldn't be any fun if no one threw up."

"That's true, and we wouldn't get any good blackmail pictures."

Jen laughed as they put the milk into a shopping cart; she still remembered the pictures someone had taken her freshman year while everyone was getting sick. No one on the drum line had wanted anyone to _ever_ see those pictures.

At the check out, Tiffany and Jen's cartload of milk did indeed turn some heads. The cashier, a young man not much older than them, asked, "Why are you buying so much milk, if it's not too nosy of me to ask?"

The girls just looked at each other and shook their heads. "You don't want to know," Jen said.

The cashier half raised his eyebrows at them, but decided not to inquire any more. "That'll be $31.27." Tiffany handed over the money, and she and Jen walked out with the ten gallons of milk.

* * *

Back at Matt's house, the male members of the battery were hungrily chowing down pizza and chicken wings. "I'm gonna be sick before we even start drinking the milk," Harrison commented.

"Oh, you'll be fine," Kyle said. "Don't be a pansy."

A few minutes later Jen and Tiffany walked in carrying the milk. "Where should we put this?" Tiffany asked Matt's mom.

"Oh, honey there's no space in the refrigerator for it. Just put it downstairs. You guys better start your little contest soon before the milk gets warm," she said.

Jen called, "Hey, someone go get the rest of the milk out of Tiff's jeep and bring it downstairs." Eric and Matt walked outside to get the milk.

In the basement, the girls decided to put the milk on the tile floor in the bathroom, where it was just slightly cooler. "This milk is getting grosser by the second," Jen commented. "I hope the guys are ready to start like…now." When Matt and Eric came downstairs Jen told them to go get the rest of the guys so they could get started "before the milk boils", as she put it.

Ten minutes later the thirteen battery members sat around a picnic table on the deck connecting the house to the backyard, ready to start the challenge. At exactly 11:30 by Christian's watch, he called, "You have an hour to drink your gallon of milk starting now. Go!"

Jen poured some of her two percent milk into the plastic cup she had collected from the kitchen and began drinking. Eric started gulping down his whole milk straight from the carton. Adam sipped chocolate milk from a straw he had put in the carton. Barret, Kyle, and Ben, who had all opted for whole milk, drank it straight from the carton, but not in huge gulps. Christian, Joey, and Tiffany, the only three who weren't taking the gallon challenge, walked around the table saying things like, "How's that milk? Nice and warm?", "Feeling sick yet?", or "How does a roller coaster sound right now?" Tiffany had a digital camera, ready to take some blackmail shots. Joey was taping it with his video camera.

Twenty minutes into the challenge, Barret got a strange look on his face and raced to the deck rail. "Oh, Barret's gonna be sick!" Kyle yelled. Barret leaned over the rail and was the first one out of the competition. Tiffany took a picture and called, "I have blackmail over you now, Barret!"

Barret shook his head. "Okay, I drank like half of it. And I feel a ton better now."

"I know! You always feel way better once you throw up," Kevin said.

Adam, with fatal chocolate milk, was the second one out. Harrison threw up a minute or two after him. "It was the pizza and wings," he declared. "Look, you can see them in it…."

Jen shuddered and covered her ears. "Don't say that! I don't want to hear it!" She was on her fifth cup of milk, and not feeling so great herself.

"Don't want to hear what? That Harrison heaved up pizza and wings with the milk?" Christian goaded.

Jen shuddered again as she downed her sixth cup of milk.

One by one, all the battery members got sick, resulting in a gross array of half-digested substances on the grass in the backyard. At 12:30 Christian called time on Jason, the only one still drinking milk. He didn't finish the gallon, and as soon as Christian announced the hour was up, he threw up on the grass. "I was just waiting for you to call time," he said. "I feel so much better now."

"I guess that means you win, since you're the only one who didn't throw up for the hour, and you came closest to finishing," Eric said.

"Cool, I guess," Jason said.

Matt, meanwhile, had unreeled the garden house and was washing everything off the grass and deck. "This is probably the most disgusting thing I've ever done," he announced.

Jen laughed. "I'm sure there're worse things….I just don't know what any of them are at the moment."

Matt rolled his eyes and said, "If you're so sure about that, I'd be glad to switch places with you."

"No, I'm good, thanks," Jen said.

"Uh-huh. I thought so."

* * *

The rest of the night was spent watching Joey's video, looking at the pictures Tiffany had taken, playing videogames and Egyptian Rat, and watching movies. Tiffany and Jen went upstairs around 3:30 in the morning, both of them hardly able to keep their eyes open. The guys, however, showed no signs of tiring out any time soon.

In the morning, Matt's mom woke everyone up at 9:00 for eggs and toast with orange juice or grape juice (no milk). They ate around a big table in the dining room and talked about the night's events. Matt's dad took pictures of the half-asleep battery members sitting around in their pajamas, or in some cases their clothes from the night before, and laughed when they cringed at the bright camera flash.

Parents started coming around 10:00 and by 10:30 everyone had gone home. Matt, once he had said good-bye to all of his fellow battery members, went upstairs to his room and slept most of the rest of the day.

* * *

**A/N: **Hope you guys enjoyed reading that. And if you didn't, it's safe to say that's probably all of the vomiting that will be included in this story. Don't forget to leave me a pretty review! 


	9. Learning Drill

A/N: Sorry for the long hiatus between updates. It might be awhile before the next one too because of marching band competitions, indoor auditions, school, etc. Hope you enjoy this rather random chapter. And reviews are much loved!

* * *

Learning Drill

At 8:00 on the following Monday morning, the band stood assembled on the front parking lot, ready for their second week of band camp. Their task for the morning block was to learn how to march the first seven pages of the opener. The wind players had left their shining instruments on the sidelines, since they wouldn't be playing and marching until they had learned the seven pages.

Mr. Tows' voice came over the speaker system: "How many counts is it from here in page one to page two?"

Papers rustled as everyone in the marching band looked at their drill charts to find the answer. Then everyone said, "Eight!"

"Good," Mr. Tows said. "Go set up page two."

Ten minutes later, Mr. Tows finally decided the set looked good from his place on the scaffolding and said, "Okay, left foot back for chalk."

The section leaders raced around to draw a two chalk lines at a right angle next to each person's foot in their section. When everyone in the band had been chalked, they reset to page one.

"Everyone face your dot for the next page. You have eight counts to go from here to that dot," Mr. Tows said, mainly for the freshmen and rookies' benefit. "Take a straight line path, and don't worry about hitting anybody. If you go in a straight line it won't be a problem."

Kayla, on the center drum major's podium cued Taylor, standing backfield, to start the metronome. It screeched out four beats and most of the upperclassmen yelled, "Five, six, seven, eight!" before the step off.

* * *

Meanwhile, the battery was learning drill on their own on the field behind the band room. Since John was helping the pit, one of the marching instructors, Gary, was teaching the battery the drill. They worked at a furious pace so that they would know the seven pages that the band was learning and be able to play their music with it by the time they had to join the band an hour before lunch.

"Reset!" Gary yelled. As the drummers starting walking back to the first set he added, "Come on! This isn't the band's pace, this is my pace!"

The battery jogged back to their places. "Okay, we're gonna march the first five pages again. Get set!" Everyone came to attention and Gary clicked a pair of sticks together eight times for the count off.

They went from their opening set on the back sideline in a straight line to a curved set, then moved the curve forward, then it moved back and flattened out into two parallel lines, which they moved left in for sixteen counts. The battery members stopped after this set, looking to Gary for his opinion. "That wasn't bad, guys," he said. "Adam, you need to get up on your toes when you're going backwards in the parallel lines. And Harrison, I know those tenors are heavy, but don't lean back when you march, especially during the stop and go when the curve moves forward and then pushes back." Harrison and Adam nodded. "Alright, go find your dots for the next page."

The drummers hurried to consult their drill charts and set up the next page. It didn't take them long, and Gary soon instructed them to go back a page so that they could march the new page. "How many counts to page six?" he asked.

"Move twelve, hold four," Christian promptly answered.

"That's right. Did everyone hear that? Move twelve, hold four. You're just moving left and forward a little bit. Ready?" Gary clicked the drumsticks together again.

The battery members successfully marched from page five to six a few times before learning page seven. After they had that page down, Gary said, "Go grab a drink." Everyone quickly put their drums down, gulped down some water, and stretched their backs. Jen, setting the example for her line, was the first to jog back to her drum and put it on. Within thirty seconds, the rest of the drum line was set.

Following Gary's instructions, they went back to the opening set and marched the whole seven pages several times. Finally Gary said, "I think you guys are pretty comfortable with the marching now, aren't you?" The drummers nodded in agreement. "Well, you know what that means. Time to add the music." Adam's eyes widened in dread; he had never marched and played the show music, only warm ups like Double Beat when they were tracking.

Although Adam and Joey, the other battery rookie, had some trouble marching and playing their music at first, they soon adjusted to it. Gary shouted instructions, criticisms, and even a few compliments at the battery while they marched. At 10:15, after two hours of sweating, he finally said, "You guys have to be set on the front parking lot with the band in fifteen minutes. Take a break and get some water until then." The battery gratefully put their heavy drums down on the grass field and sat down in the shade of a trailer classroom to drink water and talk for their fifteen precious minutes of rest.

"What time's lunch?" Kyle asked. "I'm starving."

"11:30," Jen answered. "We have an hour with the band before then."

From there the conversation wandered from one random subject to another until it finally landed on iPods and MP3 players. Jason said, "I just got an iPod Nano last night – those things are so expensive – and I've never been so attached to an electronic device in my life."

"So we've finally turned Jason into an iPod addict," Tiffany said. "Welcome to the normal world."

"Those things really are addictive," Jason said. "It's like once you turn it on, you can't turn it off."

Ben laughed. "I know how you feel, man."

"Okay, I have to know," Tiffany said. "You just got it yesterday, and how many songs do you have on it already?"

"Uh," Jason thought for a second. "Probably like a seventy-five."

"Seventy-five? Are you kidding me?" Joey asked.

"What can I say? I have a lot of CDs," Jason explained.

"Hey, guys, you need to head over to the parking lot," Gary said.

"Okay," Jen said, regretfully getting to her feet. "Let's go!"

* * *

The hour the battery spent with the band was pure boredom. The band still had to learn two more pages of drill, since they added so many steps to leaning each set: finding the dot, chalking it, marching back to the page before it, facing the new page to march to it, resetting, and finally marching to the new dot facing the front. The battery played their music while they marched so the band could get used to listening back to them for tempo.

Eventually 11:30 rolled around and Mr. Tows pulled the band in for a quick meeting before lunch. "We're starting sectionals at 1:00, so don't be late. Section leaders, don't forget to turn in your attendance sheets during lunch if you haven't already. Alright, go to lunch." Feet scuffled on the black top as two hundred teenagers stood up and walked back into the school to eat lunch.

* * *

Before the battery started their sectional in the drama room after lunch, Jason plugged his new iPod into the speaker for the metronome. Tiffany walked in to the sound of blaring electric guitars and the lyrics:

_Sweet child we'll miss you_

_So far away, far away_

"Ug. What _is_ this?" she asked the room in general.

"This, my dear Tiffany, is 'Burn it Down' by Avenged Sevenfold, my favorite band ever," Jason said.

Jen smiled. "Yay for Avenged Sevenfold."

Tiffany shuddered. "How can listen to this stuff? It's awful."

"Alright, that's it, I'm cutting you from the bass line for that, Tiffany," Kevin said. "It's against the rules to say Avenged Sevenfold's awful."

Several of the other battery members nodded, but Joey bravely said, "Oh, so it's against the rules to speak the truth? Because it _is_ awful."

"Don't hold it against Kevin that he has good musical taste," Jen said. "We all know you're just jealous."

"Right," Joey said sarcastically, but let the subject drop.

Jen picked up her snare. "Let's drum."

"Do we have to?" Harrison asked. "What if I go on strike?"

Jen held up her right hand in a sideways peace sign and snapped her index and middle fingers together like scissors. "Then you're cut," she said.

Harrison scowled as he put his tenors on.

Once they actually started rehearsing, the battery was very productive. They worked on memorizing their music for the second movement and cleaning the first movement. When John walked in to check on them toward the end of the afternoon block, he was impressed at how well the drummers rehearsed without an instructor there to keep them on track. The pit didn't rehearse that well even when John was there.

John cut the battery off and signaled for them to put their drums down. "I can tell you guys have been working hard on your music this afternoon. Hopefully you can be that productive on the field after dinner. I know you guys are going to hate me for this, but I want you to all look over your music for the part of the opener that we have drill for. It needs to sound a little better than it did this morning, as in it needs to be clean enough that other people can at least find the tempo from it. You have two hours for dinner. I'm only asking that you practice ten or fifteen minutes, okay?" The drummers nodded. "Okay. You're dismissed."

The battery carried their drums back to the percussion room and stowed them on the shelves before heading home for dinner.

* * *

Jen arrived back at school with half an hour to spare before rehearsal started. She walked into the drum room and climbed onto one of the top shelves to run through the opener for a few minutes. When the room was still empty ten minutes before rehearsal, Jen started to wonder where her section was. She stood up to put her foot down on the shelf below her – and missed. For one horrifying instant Jen was falling from the highest shelf in the room to the floor. Then everything was turned to nothingness as she hit her head on the floor.

The band, sitting on the floor of the band room watching a video tape of the morning's rehearsal, heard a loud thump from the drum room. Tiffany and Christian jumped to their feet and hastened into the small room. "That's so not good," Tiffany said when she saw Jen knocked out on the floor.

Christian looked around. "Her drum pad's on the shelf up there. I bet she was practicing and fell when she was getting down or something."

Tiffany nodded.

A moment later Jen opened her eyes. She stared up and Tiffany and Christian. "What happened?" she asked.

"I think you fell off the shelf," Christian said.

Jen shook her head to try to clear it. "I had this really weird dream. We were at a football game and something happened to you Christian, but I can't remember what."

Christian gave her a quizzical look. "You must have hit your head pretty hard."

Just then Kayla entered the room. "Is everything okay in here?" the drum major asked.

"I think Jen fell off the shelf up there," Tiffany said, pointing to the top shelf.

"I was practicing," Jen explained. "My foot slipped when I was climbing down."

"That's exactly what I thought happened," Christian said. "I must be psychic."

"Jen, are you okay?" Kayla asked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Jen said. "But that dream was so weird…."

"Dream?"

"Don't worry about it," Christian said to both Jen and Kayla.

"Well, as long as you're sure…." Kayla said.

Jen nodded.

"Okay then. We're starting rehearsal in a couple minutes." Kayla walked out of the drum room to give Mr. Tows a thumbs up that everything was fine.

Jen stood up and shook her head again. "Well that was weird."

Tiffany and Christian nodded. Then all three took their drums off the shelves and walked out to the parking lot for rehearsal, with a silent agreement not to tell anyone what had happened.

* * *

A/N: Weird stuff in this chapter, I know. But I think it will make sense later on (if I ever get to the later on...) Thanks for reading (and hopefully reviewing! wink wink) 


	10. Back to the Do Jang

A/N: An update! At last! Sorry it took forever and a day and then some to update. My marching season ended recently, so I've actually had some time to write. Hopefully there will be less time between updates now (hopefully...) Anyway, Happy Early Thanksgiving!

Hope everyone's ready for some more taekwondo. Enjoy (and review)!

* * *

Back to the Do Jang

After nearly a month away from taekwondo, Jen decided to get a few more classes in before school started the next week. On the way to the do jang she put in her Disturbed CD and rocked out to "Ten Thousand Fists" before skipping to "Stricken", her favorite song on the CD.

When she arrived at the do jang with quite a tan from band camp, all her friends were jealous. "Jen, why are you always ten times tanner than the rest of us?" lamented Mary Beth, a freshman blue belt.

Jen smiled. "Two words: band camp."

"You're such a band nerd," Donnie said. "It seems like your _life_ is band."

"Hey, I come here too!" Jen jokingly retorted. "And besides, band gives me something to do. As lame as this sounds, I would be so bored without rehearsals all the time."

Just then, Ian walked over. "Hello, stranger," he greeted Jen. "Haven't seen you here in a while."

"Yeah, well…" Jen trailed off.

"Wait, don't tell me, you've been busy with, hmmm, _band_?"

"Maybe," Jen said, eyes darting back and forth.

Ian laughed. "Band nerd."

Jen rolled her eyes at her instructor. "Whatever. I'm one of those cool drum line kids."

"Alright, I'll give you that one," Ian said. Then he looked at the clock mounted on the wall. "Let's run!" he yelled to the room in general.

"Yes, sir!" the students chorused as they started jogging.

Ten minutes later Ian decided everyone had sufficiently loosened up their muscles to stretch. "Line up in belt order!" he called.

The class lined up quickly. Dan, a second degree black belt, was first in line, followed by Jen, the red-tips Ed and Sam, Donnie the red belt, brown belts Will and Trent, Mary Beth the blue belt, and finally Marshall, a white belt. Ian led the group through the usual stretches and basic warm up kicks and hand techniques. Then he announced, "We're going to work on techniques in pairs and then we'll do Learn from the Best at the end of class. Everyone find a partner around your rank and height."

Will and Trent paired up, as did Ed and Sam. The remaining five students looked around the room before splitting up: Donnie and Jen, Mary Beth and Marshall. "Dan, you'll be my partner," Ian told the last student. "Jen and Mary Beth, switch places so Jen can help our white belt." The girls nodded and changed partners. Ian looked around, satisfied with the pairs. "Okay, line up facing each other by the mirrors, and one partner go get a kicking shield." The students quickly arranged themselves into two parallel lines, half of them holding puffy kicking shields.

"Face the mirrors if you have a shield," Ian called. "We're going to start with some roundhouse kicks. Go down to the other end and back, right leg only, then switch roles."

"Yes, sir!" most of the students responded. The unfortunate Marshall, however, forgot the customary response.

"Marshall, what do you say when an instructor tells you something?" Ian asked.

"'Yes, sir!'" Marshall said.

"Then why did you not say so when I explained the drill?"

"I…I forgot, sir," Marshall said, embarrassed.

"Well, perhaps twenty push-ups will help you remember."

Marshall, new though he was, knew not to argue with the instructor and quickly dropped to the floor to start his "reminders." He stood up when he finished and Ian said, "Now that Marshall is finished, you guys can start."

"Yes, sir!" everyone, including Marshall, yelled.

Jen braced the shield against her side for Marshall to kick. She took one step back with each impact, occasionally giving her partner tips on his technique, until they reached the other end of the do jang. They repeated the drill going back to the mirrored wall, and then Jen gave the shield to Marshall with a bow and stepped back into a fighting stance. Marshall settled the shield into position and readied himself for the powerful force behind Jen's roundhouse kick.

Jen drove her foot into the shield, rotating her hips to follow through. As her foot met the target, she let out a surprisingly loud yell. Marshall was knocked back a few steps. Once he steadied himself, Jen repeated the kick again and again.

A few rounds later, Ian switched the class to techniques appropriate to their ranks. For Marshall, this meant side kick, while Jen practiced her jumping back swing kick. Jen was not happy about this; jump back swing kick was on her list of least favorite techniques. However, she did not complain, she looked at it as an opportunity to improve her technique.

Meanwhile, Ian plugged his iPod into the do jang's stereo system and cranked up the volume on "Remedy", his favorite Seether song. Donnie and Mary Beth both unconsciously started dancing to the music, but caught each other and looked guiltily at the floor. Dan shook his head at the underclassmen's shy behavior. _It's so obvious they've got something going on. Why doesn't Donnie just ask her out already?_

* * *

When only ten minutes remained of class, Ian called, "Put the shields away and line up for Learn from the Best."

The nine students hurried to do so, Mary Beth looking rather pale. She hated Learn from the Best. They always chose some technique she had only tried a few times before, and generally got out the first round they raised the target.

Once everyone was in a single line, with Ian holding a target at the head of the line, he asked, "What's the first technique going to be? Dan? Pick a technique."

"Um," Dan said. "Step over half tornado kick."

"Okay," Ian said. "Step over half tornado kick! You get one practice round, and if you miss the target after that you're out."

Dan, the first person in line, executed his favorite technique perfectly. He stepped forward, spun to the left on his right foot, and jumped to bring his foot through the target. "Good," Ian commented and clapped the target against his thigh, making a dull _whack!_ "Next!"

Will stepped up, unsure of the technique. "So, um, what are you supposed to do?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Ian explained the technique step by step and demonstrated for the brown belt. Will nodded, and attempted the kick. "Not bad," Ian told him. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

"No, sir," Will answered before jogging back to the end of the line.

_Whack!_ "Next!"

Ed kicked with confidence. A little too much confidence: he kicked too high and missed the target. He muttered something to himself and then commented, "Good thing this is the practice round."

The rest of the class, with the exceptions of Trent and Marshall, did not have trouble with the technique during the practice round. "Now the real competition starts," Ian said. "We'll start at head height."

Dan measured the distance with his eyes, kicked, and hit the target. Ian nodded. Will still looked unsure of what he was doing, but by some stroke of luck hit the target. Ian nodded to him. Ed, now that the target was higher, nailed the technique. Ian nodded yet again. Sam also succeeded, as did everyone except a certain white belt.

When Marshall attempted the difficult technique, he tripped over his own feet, hitting the floor instead of the target. Ian shook his head as Marshall sprang back up. "Sorry. There's a spot on the wall calling your name." Marshall sat down against the wall; content with watching the higher belts execute the kick.

The next round, Mary Beth and Sam joined him. By the fifth round, it was down to Dan, Donnie, and Jen, with the target two palm-widths above their heads. Dan, naturally, passed this round with ease. Donnie barely skimmed the target, but passed none the less. Jen jumped and snapped her kick out, but it did not reach the target. She joined the others sitting along the wall.

"Welcome to Reject Land," Ed said with a teasing smile.

Jen smiled back and turned her attention to the remaining two competitors. This round, Ian set the target a raised arm span above their heads. Dan hit the target with some effort. Donnie, however, did not even come close. His kick swept through the air six inches below the target. "Alright, we have a winner!" Ian announced, holding up Dan's hand like a victorious boxer's. "Unfortunately, that's all we have time for. Everyone line back up."

The class lined up while Ian returned the target to the stack in one of the side rooms. Then they bowed out and shook hands with each other before leaving.

* * *

Outside in the waiting room, Jen grabbed her water bottle and sat down in a folding chair, Dan, Mary Beth, Donnie, and Ian joining her. "Good class, guys?" Ian asked. The four students nodded. "I don't really like Learn from the Best though," Mary Beth spoke up.

"Why?" Ian asked.

"I always get out on like the first or second round because we do some really hard technique that half the time I haven't even heard of!"

"Yeah, well, that's the way you learn sometimes. You just have to jump in and try stuff," Ian said. "But I tell you what. Next time we do Learn from the Best, you can pick the technique."

Mary Beth smiled. "Yay! Maybe I'll actually last more than two rounds."

"See? Learn from the Best isn't that bad," Dan told her.

Mary Beth nodded. "I guess so." Then, looking out the window, she added, "That's my mom. I'll see you guys later."

"Bye Mary Beth," three of the four senior belts said.

Donnie said, "I think that's my brother out there. I'll walk with you." He jumped up to accompany the freshman out.

Once the door was safely shut behind them, Dan commented, "Shy underclassmen."

"I know!" Jen exclaimed. "It's so obvious they like each other. Why hasn't Donnie asked her out yet?" She looked at Dan. "You'll have to talk to that kid."

Dan laughed. "Yeah, but you probably should too. He listens to everything you say."

"You think so?" Jen hadn't really considered that her younger friend actually took much of any of her advice seriously.

"I'm sure of it," Ian said. "He respects you, and not just because you're a black belt. It must be because you're a 'cool drum line kid'."

Jen laughed. "Maybe."

"So you're still wrapped up in band?" Dan, who would be starting his freshman year of college in a week, asked.

"Yes, Mr. I-Played-Football-All-Four-Years," Jen said. "The games won't be the same without you to laugh at this year."

"You're just jealous because you don't even know how to play football," Dan loftily said.

"Whatever."

Ian rolled his eyes. Jen and Dan had known each other for years between school and taekwondo, and were always making fun of each other in a marching band vs. football way. "You guys never stop, do you?" he asked.

"Heck no," Dan said. "It's too much fun making Jen mad."

Jen glared at her friend. "I'll kill you."

* * *

A/N: What do you think? Good? Bad? Should I include more taekwondo chapters? Did you like Jen's closing statement?

Anyway, the whole Mary Beth and Donnie thing came completely out of nowhere. I've always heard other authors use that phrase, but until now I've never known what it feels like to have your characters lead you along instead of the other way around. I also noticed this chapter that I seem to slowly be giving a shout out to every band I like. Okay, well, hope you enjoyed this chapter and don't forget to leave a review!


	11. She's a Senior

**A/N:** Back to school for Jen. I hope this chapter isn't too monotonous...I tried to make it as exciting as the dreaded first day back can be. Anyway, read and enjoy (and review)!

* * *

She's a Senior

Jen sat in homeroom on her first day of her senior year, her excitement of finally being the oldest in the school making her antsy. Her energy was dampened, however, by her homeroom teacher, Coach Rhodes, handing out schedules. Jen looked at hers and groaned. She had Calculus right after homeroom, followed by AP Literature. The second half of her day was easier: band and lunch fourth period and psychology to finish off the day. Michelle, sitting next to Jen, leaned over to compare schedules with her friend.

"Hey, we're in the same calc class," Michelle said brightly.

"Good, I can question you in here when I don't understand the homework," Jen laughed.

Michelle shook her head. "I doubt you'll need _my_ help. If anything, it'll probably be the other way around."

The bell to second period rang and the girls walked at Calculus together. Jen saw Mary Beth in the hallway, a scared, "I'm a freshman" look on her face. The senior waved to her friend. "Mary Beth! First day of high school; how does it feel?"

Mary Beth smiled at Jen. "I don't know anybody and the hallways are packed! What lunch do you have?"

Jen glanced at her schedule. "D."

"So do I!" Mary Beth exclaimed.

"Come sit with us," Jen offered. "I'll meet you by the vending machines."

"Okay," Mary Beth agreed. "I'd better go; my class is somewhere on the 100 hall."

"What class do you have?" Michelle inquired.

"Honors World History."

"Good luck with that," Michelle said.

"See ya at lunch." Jen smiled to the freshman and continued down the hallway.

* * *

Calculus with Ms. Oleeda turned out to be a nightmare. Ms. Oleeda, as Jen and Michelle noticed from the start, was a caffeine addict. She drank approximately three cups of coffee and half a Rockstar energy drink by the time her first class walked through the door. She also had another Rockstar in each of the three following classes. Jen wondered how she could consume so much caffeine and not be jumping through the ceiling.

"Hello everyone," Ms. Oleeda greeted her students when the tardy bell rang. "I'm so glad you're my first class of the day because I'm a morning person." _Geeze, I wonder why,_ Jen thought sarcastically. _It couldn't have anything to do with that energy drink and cup of coffee sitting on your desk, now could it?_ "Is anyone in here a morning person?" The class' dull stares answered the question. "I guess not," Ms. Oleeda said thoughtfully. "Well, I'll help you guys get energized in here."

A sigh from the desk behind Jen greeted this statement. Jen glanced back. A perfect face met hers for a split second. Jen immediately turned around, feeling her face flush. She contemplated that face, that perfect, handsome face. He had an emo haircut, sweeping across his right eye. His face, like the rest of body, was thin, but not in an anorexic way. _He's **perfect**, _Jen thought.

"…around the room to say one thing about yourself," Ms. Oleeda said. Jen wondered what she had missed while she had daydreamed about Mr. Perfect. Ms. Oleeda zoomed in on her first victim, a quiet-looking Asian girl. "Let's start with you, dear. Tell us your name, grade, and something interesting about yourself."

The girl said to the front wall, "I'm Chelsea. I'm a senior, and I play soccer at Backlash. It's a local rec league," she added when several people unconsciously gave her confused looks.

Ms. Oleeda nodded with a fake-looking effusive smile. "Good. No wonder you have such an athletic build." She nodded to the blond-haired boy sitting behind Chelsea. "You next, sir."

The boy lounged back in his desk as he introduced himself. "My name's Chris. I'm a senior and captain of the football team."

Ms. Oleeda smiled. "I hope you'll have time for this class with your busy practice schedule, Chris."

Chris seemed to take this as a threat, judging by the shadow that briefly crossed his face.

One by one the students introduced themselves. Finally it was Jen turn. "I'm Jen," she said with a smile. "Senior. Uh, marching band takes up a ton of my time. I'm captain of the drum line."

"Wow, that's great," Ms. Oleeda said with another plastered-on smile. "And what about you, honey?" she asked Mr. Perfect.

Jen thought she heard him sigh in a resigned way. "I'm Dan. Let's see…I'm a senior and…I hate math," he said flatly.

Ms. Oleeda seemed disgruntled and her concrete smile momentarily slid. "I, uh, well hopefully you'll come to like math this semester," she finally sputtered.

Jen smiled to herself. She liked this guy more and more. He was brutally honest, not to mention his voice…. _Jen!_ She scolded herself. _Focus! This is Calculus, not Daydreaming about Hot Guys 101!_

At last the introductions finished. The class was comprised of twenty-three seniors and four juniors. The juniors, for some inexplicable reason, had all unconsciously chosen seats clustered in the front right corner of the room. One of them, Grayson, was the stereotypical nerd: corpse-white complexion, backpack leaden with books and binders, a t-shirt with some sort of computer gibberish written on it. Haley, another junior, was thin with short dark brown hair. Apparently she was a football manager. The other two, Nate and Andrew, were quiet and looked like the type of kids whose parents had forced them into honors classes against their will.

"Well, now that we know each other a little better, let's get to work," Ms. Oleeda said, to everyone's disappointment. The students had hoped that at least this first day would be a free one. As Ms. Oleeda handed out pieces of bright orange paper she explained, "We're going to go over the syllabus – which needs to be returned with a parent signature tomorrow – and then we'll take some notes. And before you ask, yes, there will be homework tonight. There will be homework _every_ night, but we may occasionally have class time to work on it." Jen and her classmates silently groaned, and many faces fell, but Ms. Oleeda didn't seem to notice.

The remaining hour of class passed in a dull note-taking manner. Three minutes before the bell rang Ms. Oleeda glanced at the clock and said, "You have a worksheet for homework. Don't forget to get your syllabus signed!" Jen and Dan sighed at the same time, to Jen's secret delight.

When the bell rang, Jen walked quickly to AP Lit on the 800 hall. She arrived to see many familiar faces around the room, Christian's among them. "Jen!" he called.

Jen smiled. "Hey!" She put her backpack at the desk to Christian's left. Since the teacher had yet to arrive, she asked, "Ready to suffer the wrath of analyzing poetry?"

Christian rolled his eyes. "That's gonna be a resounding 'no'. What class did you have last period?"

"Calc with Ms. Oleeda."

Christian grimaced. "I had her last year for Analysis. I feel your pain."

Jen whispered, "She's such a caffeine addict!"

"Oh yeah," Christian agreed. "She's never without her Rockstar or coffee or green tea."

As the drummers' conversation momentarily lulled off, Kayla, the drum major, and Patrick, the baritone section leader, walked in. "Well isn't this quite the band reunion?" Kayla asked as she and Patrick sat down in front of Jen and Christian.

"I guess there's no escaping each other," Patrick commented.

The bell rang a few seconds later and a woman wearing a glamorous skirt horribly offset by a pair of classic black Chuck Taylors walked in. Her eyes looked soft and forgiving, which the students took as a good sign. Perhaps she could be persuaded into giving them extra time on homework or projects. She introduced herself as Ms. Reyes and handed out a three-page syllabus. Jen flipped through hers and thought, _well, it _is_ an AP class._

AP Lit proved to be all Jen expected it to be: complete boredom. The ninety minute class period dragged on endlessly. When the bell finally released them, the sleepy students sprang to life and practically bolted out the door.

* * *

Jen arrived in the band room to find John already there, writing something on the board. "You look dressed up today," she commented, noting his khaki pants and sweater.

John turned around. "Well since I'm teaching this class, I figured I should try to look like a teacher at least for the first day."

Jen nodded. "What are we doing today?"

John gestured to the board, on which was written:

_come in and sit in front_

_semester calendar_

_set up pit and battery_

_non marchers in back classroom with Mr. tows_

_marching music_

As more and more percussionists drifted in, John called, "Read the board!"

Once everyone was seated on the floor at the front of the room, John said, "Welcome to percussion class. For those of you who don't know me, I'm John Stost. You can just call me John though, not Mr. Stost." Several of the marching percussionists waved and called, "Hi John!" John shook his head slightly before handing out a stack of white paper, which turned out to be the "semester calendar."

"The calendar will mainly be for when marching band ends and we have some class time for stuff other than marching music," John explained. "Hopefully we'll be able to get through all the scales, rudiments, and whatever else I have planned for each week."

Jen skimmed the calendar. Each week had two scales – starting with major and moving to minors six weeks into the semester – two or three rudiments, and some other technique such as four mallet grips, ethnic drumming, and drum set. There were also some activities on a website called scattered throughout the semester. Jen gulped. Anything with the words "music" and "theory" in the same sentence made her shudder.

"Now that you have an idea of what the semester looks like, I have one more thing to give you before we get set up," John said as he hand out more white paper. This sheet proclaimed _Percussion Class Materials_. The list was fairly basic and included: four matching yarn marimba mallets, one pair concert snare drum sticks, one pair general timpani mallets, practice pad, and mallet bag. Jen knew she already had all these materials plus some at home.

"You need to have this stuff by next Monday," John announced. "That's a full week from now, so you have no excuse to _not_ have it. Okay?" The percussionists nodded. "Okay. Pit and battery need to set up out here and the non-marching band people are going to be in the back classroom with Mr. Tows."

The class split up to gather their equipment or practice pads. Within ten minutes Jen was tapping off Eights for the battery while the pit finished setting up. The sound of the full marching percussion section inside the band room was incredible. Jen was glad she had stashed a pair of earplugs in the pocket of her drum cover during band camp.

The drummers warmed up for fifteen minutes, the sounds of Green and Lock Jaw from the pit providing a melody against the battery's steady eighth and sixteenth notes. After loosening up their chops, they ran through the entire show before hitting the sections John considered "trouble spots."

Ten minutes before the bell rang John dismissed the percussionists to pack up. Jen and Tiffany exchanged events of their first day in the drum room after stowing their drums on the shelves. "Tiffany, you should be in my calc class," Jen told her younger friend. "There's _the_ hottest guy in there. He sits right behind me."

"Oh, really?" Tiffany asked. Jen did not often mention her crushes to other people, so this guy must have been especially good-looking. "What does he look like?"

"Emo," Jen replied. "His hair like hangs in his face and covers his eye." She had a dreamy look on her face.

"Oh, Jen," Tiffany said. "That, my dear, is called obsession. What's his name?"

"Dan."

"Dan what?"

"I don't know."

The bell rang, and the girls walked to lunch together. As they passed the vending machines, Jen remembered the promise she had made that morning. "Oh yeah! I told my friend Mary Beth I'd meet her at the vending machines so she could sit with us at lunch."

"Okay," Tiffany said. "Who's Mary Beth?"

"A freshman I know from taekwondo."

"Cool. I'll go find a table before they all fill up," Tiffany said as she walked toward the cafeteria.

She entered the messy eating area and scanned the room for an empty table. She spotted one in a corner next to the cross country runners' table. Tiffany quickly walked over and spread her backpack and lunch over the table to save a few seats. Chairs were always short in the cafeteria, and several unfortunate souls always ended up kneeling on the tile floor. Tiffany grimaced at the thought of sitting on the dirty floor during her lunch, the fourth and final one of the day.

A few minutes later Jen walked in with a shy-looking girl with long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. When they reached the table Jen introduced her friends. "Tiffany, this is Mary Beth, my freshman friend from taekwondo. Mary Beth, this is Tiffany. She's a junior and plays second bass on the drum line." Mary Beth looked a little daunted at the prospect of eating with the upperclassmen. Jen noticed and laughed. "Don't worry, we don't bite freshmen. Sophomores, maybe. But freshmen are okay."

Mary Beth smiled and sat down next to Jen.

Other students drifted by the girls' table, but only a few stayed to eat with them. The group included two seniors, Jen and Kayla, Tiffany, Rachel the sophomore pitlet, and Christa and Mary Beth, the two freshmen.

When the bell for fifth period rang, Jen somewhat regretfully picked up her backpack and headed off to Psychology. She wasn't quite sure what to expect of the class, but since it was an elective she assumed it wouldn't be anything too difficult.

Jen's notion was right. Psychology, judging by the first day, was a slack class for upperclassmen. The syllabus said the class would cover topics such as Freud and the interpretation of dreams, classical conditioning, and the stages of sleep and sleep deprivation. It also included several "visual reinforcements", AKA movies. _Easy class,_ Jen decided.

At 3:30 the long-awaited final bell rang and the school building and parking lot cleared out as students rushed off campus. It was only the first of many monotonous school days.

* * *

**A/N**: By the way, Ms. Oleeda was inspired by my AP Lang teacher, a caffiene addict to the core. 


	12. Friday is Game Day

**A/N: **An update at last! Sorry it took so long. No promises that this chapter is anything special though...hope you enjoy it anyway!

* * *

Friday is Game Day

The first two weeks of school had flown by, and now it was Thursday afternoon, the last rehearsal before the marching band's first half time performance. Jen stood at attention in the center of the drum line's warm up arc behind the rest of the band. "Drum line," Mr. Tows called through the microphone connected to the long ranger, "go warm up somewhere for fifteen minutes."

"Senior courtyard okay?" Jen yelled back.

"Sure."

Jen lead her section to their usual warm up spot. Once they were set up on the grass, Jen counted off Eights. A wave of energy seemed to come off the drummers as they began to play. John joined them a few minutes later with a metronome. "Are you guys warmed up enough to run through the show?" he asked.

"Um, well, we've played Eights a few times and Triplet Roll once," Jen explained. "We might need another minute."

"Play Triplet Roll a couple more times," John said. He turned on the metronome at 150 beats per minute. "Is this a good tempo?"

Jen nodded and counted off the exercise.

John considered the line as they continued their warm up. The drummers had learned to play much cleaner since band camp, but the music continued to fuzz out a lot. Still, for the last week of August, they were doing well.

John turned the metronome off halfway through the line's last rep of the roll exercise as a test of their listening skills. The drummers had rarely played without the steady click of the metronome to guide them, and the exercise fell almost completely apart. However, they quickly regained their focus and recovered after only a measure or two. When the exercise finished John allowed them to relax from stiff attention.

"How do you guys feel about the performance tomorrow?" he asked the group in general.

Harrison, as always, spoke up. "Not that great."

"Why?"

Harrison shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I know everyone knows their music and all, but…I guess it's just intimidating."

"You're a sophomore; you know what games are like," John said. "There's no reason to be intimidated."

"I guess," Harrison reluctantly agreed.

"Anyone else feel 'intimidated'?" John asked.

Most of the line shook their heads, but Adam nodded vigorously and said, "Yeah."

John repressed a sigh. "There's nothing to worry about, Adam," he reasoned with the freshman. "You know your drill and music. We've run this show tons of times since band camp. You'll be fine." After a short pause he added, "Let's play through the show before you guys have to go with the band."

The drum line returned to attention as John turned the metronome back on. The music, if nothing else, was readable now while it had simply sounded like so much mud during band camp. John decided they were ready for their first performance.

The next day dragged by for Jen. Calculus was ridiculously boring. The class took a pop quiz and learned something about limits. Ms. Oleeda, in her caffeine-induced unobservant manner, did not notice half her students falling asleep on their desks. She just kept teaching. AP Lit was not much better. Kayla was understandably nervous about the game. If something went wrong during the marching band's halftime performance, she and the other drum majors would be the first people blamed. While the class reviewed a poem from _The Norton Reader_, Kayla tapped her pencil and kept shifting in her desk until Ms. Reyes finally asked, "Kayla, dear, do you need to use the restroom?"

Kayla's face turned a shade of pink that complimented her t-shirt, and sat still the rest of the period.

Jen and Christian walked to the band room together, talking about one random subject after another. Their conversation ranged from the football game to Roman noodles. When they entered the band room, the air was already thick with excitement and anticipation for the game. However, the drummers were all at least faintly nervous about their performance, and focused on the task at hand during class. John only had to yell at a few inattentive freshmen twice, a new record.

At lunch, the band girls talked about the game practically the entire time. Mary Beth felt almost guilty for not going to the game, but she really did not care about football. She mentioned this while the others were speculating about who would win, and was met with mixed reactions.

"How can you not like the football games?" Kayla asked. "They're so much fun!"

"I don't think so," Rachel countered. "I really don't like them. I mean, sometimes they're okay, but for the most part they're so boring."

"I think they're alright," Tiffany said. "If I wasn't in band I probably wouldn't go to that many games, though."

"I wouldn't go to _any_. There are much more entertaining ways to waste time," Rachel said.

The bell rang a few minutes later and the group dispersed. Jen trudged off to Psychology, while Mary Beth and Christa went to Honors Biology. Rachel reluctantly left for AP European History. Tiffany and Kayla walked to the 300 hall together for Honors US History and Sociology, respectively.

Psychology, although fascinating to Jen on most days, was painfully dull on this Friday afternoon. The clock moved so slowly Jen wondered if its' battery was dying. Coach Tomlin noticed Jen and several of her classmates staring at the clock more than the board about halfway through the period. He sighed. "What time is it?" he asked his bored students. "Does staring at the clock like that make time go by faster?" A few juniors laughed as those who had been staring down the clock came out of their dazes. Jen shook her head to clear it, then looked down at her notes only to discover she had not taken any notes at all.

Coach Tomlin said, "Finish copying the notes and then you guys can chill for the rest of the time."

Jen hurriedly scribbled down the notes from the overhead before shoving her notebook in to her backpack. Then she went back to staring at the clock and daydreaming.

Naturally, a certain handsome face with hair sweeping over one eye entered Jen's mind. She was still obsessed with Dan, with a low C in Calculus to show for it. He and Jen had talked a few times, but he seemed oblivious to her attraction to him. Or maybe he did notice and was just trying to drive her insane.

The bell interrupted Jen's thoughts, and she quickly zapped herself back to reality. She grabbed her backpack and made a beeline for the door.

In the parking lot, Jen talked to Matt and Kevin while they waited for the mad rush of traffic to thin out a bit. They laughed at the exasperated looks on many juniors' and seniors' faces as they sat in the gridlock of the parking lot. A Honda Civic passed by with rap music turned up so loud the drummers could feel the ground vibrating. "D'you think it's loud enough?" Jen asked, shouting slightly to be heard over the bass.

"I don't know…" Kevin said. "I don't think it's quite loud enough for my deaf grandmother to hear, but it's pretty close."

"Say what?!" Matt yelled. "Sorry I couldn't hear you over the super loud music!"

Jen laughed and rolled her eyes. When the Civic finally moved on and they could hear themselves think again, Jen said, "Hey Matt!" Matt looked at her, and she mouthed, "Deaf people say 'What'."

"What?" Matt said. "Jen, I know you didn't actually speak. You just mouthed something. I'm not a lip reader, you know."

"Yes, I know, but apparently you _are_ deaf."

"Ha ha, you're so funny," Matt said sarcastically.

Kevin laughed until he started coughing.

"Kevin, man, you gotta give up that pack a day," Matt informed his friend. "I've told you before, smoking's bad for you!"  
"Yeah, let me tell you, I smoke all the time. _Not,_" Kevin said.

"Uh-huh, sure," Jen said. "You keep telling yourself that." When Kevin gave her an icy glare, she added, "Kidding! Just kidding! Just having fun at your expense, don't take it the wrong way."

Kevin rolled his eyes and said, "Thanks so much. I better get going. Don't we have to be back here at 6:00?"

"Yeah," Jen said. "And then we have—"

Matt covered her mouth, muffling the rest of her words. "Enough! I don't want to hear you spew inspection times just because you're trying to be a good section leader. You sound like Taylor for goodness sakes!" Taylor was the ultra-informative and control-freak drum major. He could tell you what time inspection would be for the local competition a month away, and then yell at you for not knowing that beforehand.

"Fine, fine," Jen said. "I'll see you guys tonight."

Jen started her 2000 Jeep Cherokee and put in her Bullet for my Valentine CD. She skipped ahead to "Tears Don't Fall" before pulling out of the parking lot, a smile on her face.

"So I'm finally a senior," she said to herself. Then another thought occurred to her. "This is my _last_ first football game. How sad!"

* * *

**A/N:** Yeah, nothing exciting there, I know. But next chapter will be better for sure! And feel free to leave a review of any sort, criticism is GOOD! 


	13. It's the Dreaming That's Real

**A/N:** I'm so excited about this chapter. I don't really like the first half of it, but I'm excited about the second half. I hope you enjoy it. (And I'm going to stop typing this note now so that I don't give anything away). Wait, I have to say one more thing. I suggest you think back to band camp for Jen and the morning she had that weird dream. hint hint

* * *

**It's the Dreaming That's Real**

Jen arrived back at school ten minutes early, which according to the band motto "To be early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late, and to be late is to be left behind", meant she was on time. She dropped her backpack on the floor in front of the drum room and slipped through the door. Quite a sight met her. Someone had "borrowed" a boom box and strobe light. "Forgotten" by Linkin Park blared from the boom box speakers, and some of the guys were changing into their under-uniform uniform: thin navy blue shorts and gray t-shirts with the Redtop High School marching band logo on them. Jen settled comfortably on a shelf and mindlessly played cheeses on the carpet covered wood.

Chase burst in to the room a few minutes later and yelled, "Hey, pit! Make sure everything you need is hooked up to the Gator so it can go down to the stadium. And F.Y.I., Taylor just yelled that we have fifteen minutes til inspection."

Jen slid off her shelf and filed out the door with the other percussionists to get her uniform. As she walked down the hallway the uniform racks had been pulled on to, she sensed something was not quite right. On the surface, everything seemed fine: the freshmen anxiously awaited their first performance in front of their school peers, and the upperclassmen casually waited until the last minute to get their uniforms and instruments before inspection. But there was an undercurrent of something out of place. Jen couldn't place what it was, though, so she pushed the feeling from her consciousness.

Fifteen minutes later, the marching band stood assembled in sections on the practice field behind the band room. Jen walked by each member of the battery, making sure they all had black socks under their navy blue uniform pants. She looked each drummer in the eye, giving reassuring looks to Adam and Joey. When she reached Christian, she quietly asked her friend, "Are you completely sure your leg is fine?"

"Jen, why are asking me this now?" Christian asked with a bemused smile. "Shouldn't you have asked, say, when school started?"

"I don't know; probably," Jen replied. "But really, you're sure?"

"I'll be fine."

Jen nodded and moved on to check Harrison's socks, but that uneasy feeling came back into her chest. _There's nothing wrong,_ Jen told herself sternly. _What are you worried about? You're a senior; it's not like performing in front of the school is a new experience. Chill out._

Jack, one of the drum majors, walked around a few minutes later, checking with the section leaders that everyone had passed inspection. Mr. Tows called the band together to make last-minute announcements after Jack finished his rounds. "Is everyone ready for the first game?" he asked. The older students cheered and a few brave freshmen cheered. "Well, if you're a little nervous, that's perfectly okay. Just remember, we're performed this show before and now that we have uniforms on no one will be able to tell who you are from the stands if you mess up. But try not to mess up anyway." A few laughs came from the band. Mr. Tows smiled. "I'm glad some of you have a sense of humor. Anyway, we're going to march down to the stadium in twos in our usual order: drum majors first, then sousas, low brass, mellophones, trumpets, drum line, and woodwinds from saxes down to flutes at the end. When we get to the stadium, we'll go across the track in front of the stands and sit in our usual section. Drum line, you can arc it up in front of the stands and play some cadences while the rest of the band goes into the stands. All right, everyone line up."

The band split into their sections to form two long orderly columns behind the drum majors. Mr. Tows called, "Mark, time, mark!" and Jen tapped her snare four times before settling into the regular tap on one and three, and a seven stroke roll with an accent on the downbeat of one. The drum majors stepped off and slowly the band moved forward. Once the battery had made it around the corner from the field to the sidewalk leading to the stadium, Jen yelled, "Tickle Me Emo!" and tapped off the complicated cadence. It began with a strong opening statement, and then moved to a basic groove by two sections at a time while the third section had an overlying lick. Once all the solos went by, it returned to the opening statement with a slight variation to end with a shot from the snare line.

The cadence ended close to the stadium, and Jen tapped off the school's favorite cadence, BD2, which wasn't really a cadence but a never-ending groove. The students in the stands clapped half-heartedly as the band marched in, eyes glued to the football teams warming up on the field. Jen signaled the drum line to assemble their warm up arc in front of the stands, and they split off from the rest of the band filing into the stands. They switched to Kadence with a K while the woodwinds marched past them into the stands. Once the last flutes were off the track, the drummers formed a block to march to the stands in.

The game started shortly after the band was settled in the stands, and they played the national anthem and the fight song to kick things off. The first quarter of the game favored Redtop High, bringing them into the second quarter with a 7-3 lead. When the band left the stands halfway through second quarter to warm up, the score was 10-3.

John led the battery to their traditional warm up spot behind the stands, and gave them a few last-second tips before they went onto the field. As Jen's hands moved through Eights, Double Beat, and the opener of the show, the undercurrent of something terribly wrong surfaced. Jen stubbornly pushed it back into submission so she could concentrate on the warm up, but her mind would not rest. _What is wrong with me?_ She wondered. _There's absolutely nothing wrong. It's the first game of the season. We're winning. The show will be fine. What is there to worry about?!_

A few minutes later, the band stood on the sidelines waiting for the half time buzzer to sound. Jen's uneasiness increased. She could no longer block it from her mind. She repeatedly shook her head in an attempt to clear it, drawing strange looks from Matt and Kyle on either side of her. Matt carefully asked, "Are you okay, Jen?"

"I'm fine," she replied as she vigorously shook her head yet again. Poor Matt could not sort out the mixed message. Jen's eyes glazed over as her mind finally sorted out the trouble.

Her visions fuzzed out for a moment, then resolved into a familiar image from a dream: Jen crouching on the football field, her drum on the grass somewhere behind her, someone's crumpled form beside her. _The world, for an endless moment, stood still. There was no sound, no movement, only emptiness. Then everything happened in no time at all. Hearts, once beating, ceased, and a deadly quiet descended over everything. And in that moment, she knew everything. But in that moment, she knew nothing._

Suddenly Jen's vision cleared, snapping her back to reality. Now she knew what she had been unconsciously worried about before. Jen broke rank and raced to one of her fellow drummers, muttering obscenities to herself along the way. She grabbed her friend by the arm and tugged him out of line. He stumbled and nearly fell at Jen's tugging. "Jen? What's going on? Are you okay?" he asked.

Jen did not answer his questions, just dragged him out of earshot of the other band members. Then she faced him, a serious look on her face. "Christian," she said. "Please, I'm begging you, don't march tonight."

"What?!" Christian asked, startled. "Why? Jen, I'll be fine. Why are you so worried?"

"Christian, please. Just believe me. Don't march tonight. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Jen, what are you talking about?" Christian wondered if his captain had lost it completely.

Jen forced herself to concentrate and see things from Christian's point of view. "Okay, do you remember that day I fell off the shelf and hit my head?" she asked.

"Yeah. You said something about having a weird dream…."

"…where something happened to you at a football game," Jen finished for him. "Well, during band camp I had this dream. It was like the world stopped turning, someone's heart stopped beating, and I knew everything but nothing at the same time. Christian, this going to sound completely crazy, but tonight is that football game I dreamed about when I fell off the shelf, and tonight is the night the world will stop, for me at least, because your heart will stop. I know everything, but I know nothing. Christian, I just now put the two together, and that's what's going to happen if you march tonight. Please believe me."

"Jen…" Christian was speechless, and didn't know what to make of his friend's prophecy. Jen's eyes had a pleading look in them. "Jen, I believe you, but…"

"Then don't march. Christian, please, I don't want anything to happen to you." Jen's eyes now had uncharacteristic tears in them. "I love you, Christian. I don't want your heart to stop. I couldn't take it. Please. Believe me." Tears spilled down Jen's face.

"Jen, don't cry. It makes me nervous when you cry. Look, I'm going to talk to Mr. Tows, okay? Nothing's going to happen, don't worry. Just put on your drum line face and get back in line so no one starts to wonder what's going on."

Jen nodded and Christian hurried off to find the band director. When he was out of sight, Jen stared at her drumhead for a minute, pulling herself back together before she returned to her place in the snare line.

"Everything okay?" Matt asked again. "You kinda freaked out there. Those were some, uh, choice words you were muttering too."

Jen's face flushed. She usually made a point of not cursing. "Oh. Yeah, sorry about that, there just something I needed to take care of."

Matt nodded. "That's okay."

The halftime buzzer sounded at last, and the band marched onto the field as soon as the football team raced off it.

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**A/N: **Yes, cliffhanger, I'm sorry. But hopefully I'll update again soon (hopefully...) Anyway, did you like this chapter? Something actually kinda happened as opposed to last chapter, which was rather fluffy. Okay, well leave pretty reviews if you feel so inclined. 


	14. Hold on to Your Dreams

**A/N:** Jen is not insane, just in case you got that impression from the last chapter. Hmm, I have nothing else to tell you, so on with the chapter!

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Hold on to Your Dreams

Christian approached Mr. Tows with caution thrown to the wind. "Mr. Tows!" he called. The director turned around, wondering why one of the drummers would want to talk to him now, only a minute or two before the first half time performance of the season. "Yes?"

"There's something I need to talk to you about."

"Can it wait till after the performance, Christian?" Mr. Tows asked, still bewildered at this seemingly random conversation.

"No," Christian answered bluntly. "It has to do with the performance. Apparently I'm in danger if I march the show tonight."

"What?" Mr. Tows said sharply, more bewildered than ever. "Christian, where did you hear that?"

"Jen told me. Listen, I know this sounds insane, but she said she had these dreams where my heart stopped during the performance and…." Christian trailed off for a moment. He hadn't thought to ask Jen what would happen _after _his heart stopped. "Well, actually I don't know what's supposed to happen after that, but it can't be good."

Mr. Tows shook his head. "She's lost it," he murmured to himself. "I'll talk to her about it. You go get back in line and march the show. I'm not marching a tenor line without its lieutenant." Mr. Tows power walked in the direction of the drum line without waiting for Christian to answer.

Christian was torn on what to do. He wanted to believe Jen and her prediction, but after repeating her words to the director, it really did just sound like crazy gibberish. And he had been ordered to march by Mr. Tows. Christian returned to his place in the tenor line, just in time to march onto the field.

Time was against the band director, and he did not reach Jen before she started tapping the band onto the field. He watched his band step off, line after line. _Too late now,_ Mr. Tows thought. _Jen, I hope you weren't right._

The show started a minute later, after the announcer finished his speech about the marching band's upcoming trip to B.O.A. Regionals to compete against bands from five other states, and the low price of popcorn at the snack stand.

Jen faced backfield, counting rests for the drum line. She did not know Christian also stood on the field, preparing to step off. She thought everything would turn out fine since she had warned Christian before the performance. When the line stepped off and turned around, playing their opening lick, Jen's heart skipped a beat or two as she caught sight of the tenor lieutenant marching a yard line away from her. Her ability to concentrate suddenly disappeared, and all Jen could think about was what surely must come to pass. She desperately tried to send Christian psychic messages to get off the field before it was too late. Unfortunately, neither she nor Christian was psychic, and both the drummers continued marching and playing.

Jen's heart rate climbed higher and higher as the show went on, until she was afraid _her_ heart would stop. The opener, however, passed without incidence, as did the ballad. The third movement of the show reassuringly began its lively jingle, and Jen slowly began to relax. _I must have been crazy, thinking that stuff would actually happen,_ she thought as the show came to a climax. _It's almost over and nothing's happened._

Unfortunately, almost only counts in horseshoes.

Just when Jen truly thought everything was in the clear, she heard a terrible thump behind her, one that sounded suspiciously like someone making a not-so-friendly acquaintance with the ground. Jen drew in a sharp breath and simply stopped marching. _The world, for an endless moment, stood still. There was no sound, no movement, only emptiness. _Her mind and body froze, not daring to see who had fallen behind her. Matt, on her left, nearly knocked Jen over as he crabbed to the right with the rest of the snares.

_Then everything happened in no time at all. _

Jen's brain finally got a message through to her immobile body: run! Jen's legs spun her around of their own accord and she raced toward the motionless form behind her. She put her drum down on the grass and crouched over the form. True to her prediction, it was Christian.

Tears filled Jen's eyes as she put her fingers on Christian's neck to feel for a pulse. _Hearts, once beating, ceased, and a deadly quiet descended over everything. _There was no pulse. _And in that moment, she knew everything. But in that moment, she knew nothing._

Jen screamed. She was deaf to everything but her screams. She knew she had been right after all. Christian's heart had stopped. She had had the chance to prevent this disaster, but no one had believed her, and now her friend lay on the football field dying. She knew all of this would happen. But she didn't know what would happen now that her prediction had come true.

Mr. Tows saw the terrible scene unfold in slow motion. His feet carried him up to the press box in record time, although it seemed like such a slow trek up the bleachers. He found the school deputy there along with the announcer and a few other administrators. Mr. Tows shook the deputy's shoulders. "We need EMTs on the field, now!" he yelled. "Do you hear me? Now!"

The startled deputy did not question the band director, but picked up his walkie-talkie and called for the EMTs who had to attend every high school football game. They were on the field with defibrillators in less than a minute.

Down on the field, Jen continued to scream, and tears coursed uncontrollably down her face. The EMTs tried to tell Jen to move so they could get the defibrillator on Christian, but she was still lost in her silent world. Luckily, someone approached the scene and pulled Jen gently away, wrapping her in a tight hug. Tiffany knew words could not reach Jen now, and that immediate action was the course to take.

The EMTs ripped Christian's jacket open and somehow wrestled his drums off before slapping the shock pads on his chest. The electric currant ran through Christian's body, jolting him violently. Still no pulse. A second shock ravaged his still form. A faint pulse began. Faint, but there nonetheless.

Christian was quickly carted into an ambulance and rushed to the emergency room for the second time in three and a half months. Mr. Tows called his parents as the ambulance pulled away, a grim look on his face. He knew he should have forbidden Christian to march. He should have taken the prediction seriously, regardless of how crazy it sounded.

Meanwhile, Jen's screaming had at last ceased, and now she sobbed without restraint. Tiffany led her friend back to the band room without releasing her from her hug. Jen blindly stumbled along next to Tiffany, not questioning where they were going. No one was in the drum room when the battery girls entered it. Tiffany sat Jen down on the floor, leaning against a wall, and gently said, "Jen, what happened? Please tell me what happened."

Jen haltingly explained her dreams and the harsh reality of them between sobs. Tiffany's eyes widened in shock, but she didn't let her friend see. Jen cried and said, "It's all my fault. I should have told Christian before the game. I knew something wasn't right from the moment I got my uniform off the rack tonight. I knew something was going to happen, but I was stupid and just thought it would go away. It's all my fault!"

Tiffany hugged Jen again. "Jen, it's not your fault. You couldn't have known all that stuff would actually happen—"

"But that's just it!" Jen wailed. "I _did_ know it would happen! I've known since band camp! Maybe not consciously, but I dreamed it, I knew it!"

"No…Jen, no, it's not your fault," Tiffany said again. "Don't blame yourself for what happened. You did all you could: you warned Christian the minute you fully understood what was going on."

In one part of her mind, Jen knew Tiffany was right. But a bigger part still insisted that it was her fault, that Christian's life would not hang in the balance now if she had said something sooner. "If he dies, I swear I will too," she whispered. "I won't be able to live with myself if he dies."

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**A/N:** Things will get better eventually, I promise. There's just a few more obstacles Jen has to suffer through first. I almost feel bad about it, but there's really nothing else I can do. Reviews are very much loved and appreciated! 


	15. When Nightmares are Reality

**A/N: **Apologies for the break between updates. And thanks **Risi-Chan** for the lovely review last chapter. Anyway, I hope no one bites my head off over this chapter...and FYI it's a bit on the sad side. Enjoy

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**When Nightmares are Reality**

Jen woke up in a sweaty fever the next morning. Well, afternoon to be more exact. She rolled over in bed to check the time, found it was already 1:30 on her precious Saturday afternoon, and rolled over to go back to sleep.

Jen's cell phone rang an hour later and she reluctantly crawled out of bed to answer it. "Hello?" she croaked into the receiver.

"Jen?" Tiffany's concerned voice asked. "Are you okay? I've called three times already today, and you sound terrible."

"Ug," was all Jen could summon from her vocal cords for a moment. Then she clarified, "I think I have a fever. I'm freezing even though I have like four blankets on my bed."

"Drink some tea, it'll make you feel better," Tiffany advised.

"I think I'll just go back to sleep," Jen said. "I'm so tired."

"Okay, well, when you get up, have some tea. Sweet dreams."

"Thanks. Night. Afternoon, whatever time it is. Bye." Jen snapped her phone shut and curled up in bed again, but found she couldn't go back to sleep. Eventually she wrapped herself in a blanket and padded downstairs to make some tea.

Cadet trotted over to meet Jen and licked her hand in greeting. Jen absently rubbed her dog's head while she rummaged in the cabinet for a tea bag. Her search yielded a packet of green tea and instant lunch Ramen noodles. Jen set the items on the counter and heated two mugs of water in the microwave. When the water was close to boiling, she poured the contents of one mug into the cup of Ramen noodles, and dropped the tea bag into the second mug. After adding honey to the green tea a few minutes later, Jen took her food upstairs to her room where it was slightly warmer than the rest of the house.

Upstairs, Jen grabbed another blanket off her bed and settled on the floor with her face over her steaming mug of tea. _I hate being sick on the weekend, _she thought. _Why couldn't I be sick on Monday? At least I'd get to miss a day of school that way. Oh well, I guess I'm just really stressed out._ When Jen got around to thinking about why she was so stressed, her fevered mind suddenly recalled the events of previous night.

Jen scrambled up from the floor to grab her cell phone, and scrolled through to Christian's number. She pressed send and hoped he would answer.

_Hey, this is Christian; I'm not here right now. Leave me a message and I'll get back to you soon._ Jen frowned in frustration, but left a message anyway. After she hung up, Jen finished her tea and soup and actually got dressed, albeit in sweatpants, tennis shoes, and a hoodie pulled over the tank top she had worn to bed. Then she went back downstairs, found her car keys, and got in her Jeep to drive to the hospital, only to remember she had no idea which hospital Christian was staying at. Jen sighed and opened her cell phone, trying to figure out who would know where Christian was. She decided to try Tiffany first.

Tiffany picked up after three rings. "Hello?"

"Tiff, do you know which hospital Christian's at?"

Tiffany resisted the temptation to tell her friend that she was in no condition to be making hospital visits. "Um, yeah," she said instead. "He's at Dominion Medical Center, in the emergency care section. Just ask at the front desk, and they'll tell you where he is."

"Okay. Thank, Tiff."

"Tell Christian I said 'Hi.'"

"Okay. See ya later."

Luckily, Jen knew where Dominion Medical Center was, and didn't have to waste time looking up directions on MapQuest. She backed her Jeep out of the garage and sped off towards the hospital.

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Twenty-five minutes later, Jen pulled into the parking lot in front of the emergency care building. She parked, blew her nose, and walked inside.

An attendant at the front desk asked, "Who are you here to see?"

"Christian Reynolds. He just came in last night."

The middle-aged man nodded and typed Christian's name into the computer. "He's in room 208, on the second floor. Take a right out of the elevator, and just go about halfway down that hall. It's on the left."

"Thanks," Jen said and turned to walk over the elevators.

"Wait!" the attendant said. "You need a visitor's pass." He pulled an orange sticker and a pen out of his desk. "Fill this out and stick it on your jacket."

Jen quickly filled out the sticker.

Name: Jennifer Seagrace

Visiting: Christian Reynolds Rm: 208

She peeled the thin white backing off and pressed the sticker onto her hoodie as she headed to the elevators. She pressed 2 on the panel of buttons and waited for the door to close. It took awhile. Then the elevator began its' painfully slow ascent to the second floor. Jen couldn't at that moment decide if the elevator really was that slow, or if it just seemed that way because she was in a hurry.

When the door finally slid open at the second floor, Jen walked down the long hallway, checking room numbers as she passed them. _202, 204, 206_. _Aha! 208. _Jen gently knocked on the door, and Christian's mother opened it a few seconds later. "Hi, Jen," she said. "Come in, and make sure you use some of that hand sanitizer by the door."

Jen obediently squirted a drop of hand sanitizer onto her palm and rubbed it into her dry skin. She looked at Christian lying in the hospital bed and had to fight the urge to run crying into the hallway. He had a respirator over his mouth and nose, a needle stuck in his right arm, and tubes galore hooked up to various machines. A heart monitor gently chirped in the background.

Jen knelt by the bed, fighting tears. _This is all my fault,_ she thought again. _If only I had told him sooner…!_ Christian blinked groggily at Jen and attempted a smile. Jen smiled for both of them. "Hey," she said. "That's quite the collection of accessories you've acquired." Christian's eyes crinkled up in silent laughter. "Tiffany said to say hi for her," Jen added. Silence filled the room.

Jen felt a sneeze tickling her nose and dashed to the hallway. "Achoo!" She was afraid she had sneezed so loudly she would wake up everyone on the floor. When no angry nurses or relatives of patients came to chastise her, Jen wandered off to find the bathroom and a much needed tissue.

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Back in Christian's room, Mrs. Reynolds sat deep in thought about the previous night.

_A nurse scratched notes on her clipboard as she checked the many monitors surrounding Christian. Mrs. Reynolds, a worried look in her eyes, hurried over to ask her, "Nurse, will he be alright? Is he going to recover?"_

_The nurse softly said, "Ma'am, your son is in critical condition. His heart is functioning artificially right now. I'm afraid he doesn't have much of a chance."_

_Mrs. Reynolds eyes clouded with tears she refused to let fall. She nodded. "Thank you."_

_"I'm sorry, honey," the nurse said kindly as she hugged Mrs. Reynolds._

A longer-than-usual tone from one of the monitors jerked Mrs. Reynolds back to the present. She stared at Christian's heart monitor for a minute, not quite believing the flat line on it.

In the hallway, two doctors and the nurse from the night before pounded toward room 208. They threw open the door and immediately began trying to jump start Christian's heart for the third time in twenty-four hours. The shocked Mrs. Reynolds leapt up from her chair and hopped anxiously from foot to foot, praying. The heart monitor stuttered out a few beats, but simply refused to continue. When it flat lined again, everyone in the room knew there was no hope. The doctors slowly put their equipment away and the kind-hearted nurse wrapped an arm around Mrs. Reynolds' shoulders and led her away down the hall.

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In the bathroom, Jen's queasy stomach gave up on her tea and soup and she threw up in one of the stalls. _Ug, I feel terrible,_ she thought. _Wait, no, Christian probably feels terrible. I feel fine in comparison. I should have brought him some balloons or something to cheer him up. Why didn't I think of that before? Oh well, I'll just go down to the gift shop and get him something._

Jen splashed water on her face and washed her hands at the sink, and then walked out of the bathroom to find the gift shop. She spotted Mrs. Reynolds crying hysterically as she was led down the hallway by a nurse. Jen raced over to see what the trouble was. When she caught up to the pair, she hardly needed to ask, "What's wrong?"

Mrs. Reynolds blinked her tears back enough to focus her eyes on Jen, and said in a hoarse whisper, "Christian's…Christian's…" She couldn't finish her sentence.

"Passed on," the nurse gently supplied.

Jen stopped short, blinked a few times in disbelief, and bolted out of the hospital. In her Jeep, she kept whispering to herself, "It's not true. There's been some kind of mistake. Christian is most definitely _not_ dead."

She absentmindedly turned on her CD player as she pulled out of the parking lot and hummed along to "Radiant Eclipse" by Avenged Sevenfold, until she actually heard and processed the lyrics:

_Close your eyes or look away_

_Fate exposed won't let me stay_

_Hope will fall tonight with broken wings_

_Descending entity in me_

Jen simply could not bear the thought of having no hope, since a thin glimmer of hope that the nurse had been wrong was all that was keeping her together right now. She quickly switched to the radio.

Ben Jorgensen's voice slowly sang:

_Don't believe that the weather is perfect the day that you die_

"That was Armor for Sleep with 'The Truth About Heaven'," the DJ's familiar cool voice informed his listeners. "Next up we have—"

Jen turned off the radio. The _last_ things she wanted to think about were death and heaven. She tried humming some marching band music, but found that only reminded her of last night's disastrous game. All these attempts to distract herself gave Jen a headache. She felt her forehead; it was still burning hot.

"What am I doing?" she asked herself aloud. "I shouldn't be out driving around, I should be at home in bed."

When Jen got home, she strode through the kitchen and upstairs to her room without saying a word to her parents. She shut her door, put her pajamas back on, and crawled into bed with her favorite book: Trickster's Choice by Tamora Pierce. She fell asleep a few minutes later and did not wake up until the house phone rang at 7:00 the next morning.

Jen ignored the phone, knowing one of her parents would pick it up. Just as she was drifting back to sleep, her mother called from downstairs, "Jen! Phone!" When Jen did not reply, she came up the stairs and knocked on her daughter's door. "Jen, are you awake? Mr. Tows is on the phone."

Now Jen was fully awake. _Why would Mr. Tows call my house, let alone at 7:00 in the morning?_ Jen wondered as she got out of bed and took the phone from her mother. "Hello?"

"Jen? It's Mr. Tows." He paused for her to say something like, 'Hi Mr. Tows', but continued when only silence greeted him. "Jen, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, especially so early in the morning, but I thought you would want to know before class tomorrow. Christian is dead. His funeral's on Tuesday."

Through her numbness, Jen said, "Okay. Thanks. Bye."

"Jen, if there's anything you –" Mr. Tows started, but Jen had already hung up.

"—need, come talk to me," he said to the empty static.

Jen didn't know what to do. She had hoped everything had just been a bad dream, and it would all be back to normal today. No such luck. Jen sighed and went back to bed.

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**A/N: **tear That was a rather hard chapter to write, but it was necessary to the story. I didn't intend for anyone to die in this story when I started, but not everything goes according to plan, right? On the bright side, that's about all the depressing stuff that's going to happen for awhile. I'm hoping Jen will be more cheerful next chapter... Don't forget to leave a review! (they're much loved) 


	16. A Final Goodbye

**A/N: **Although there was a lot more that I wanted to include in this story, I got the feeling that it was starting to drag along and therefore time to come to a close. I also dearly apologize for the 2 month hiatus between updates. All I can say is that life is overwhelming. Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this last chapter. And reviews, as always, are much loved and appreciated.

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A Final Goodbye

On Tuesday morning, Jen gathered her courage and drove to Christian's funeral. She wore a plain but formal black dress and a long black ribbon in her hair. The actual service was at the Reynolds' church, Hillock United Methodist. Jen chose a seat near the back of the sanctuary; the only familiar faces she saw among the crowd were Mr. Tows, Christian's parents, and his younger brother Mike. As she sat quietly at the back of the crowd, watching the mourning family and friends, Jen began to wonder if she should have come at all. Only a few of Christian's other friends were there, and she didn't know them very well. Everyone was crying, but Jen seemed to have used up her sorrow quota over the traumatic weekend, and she only let a few tears fall.

Jen looked out the window to her left to distract herself from the somber group around her. Ironically enough, it looked out at the Jupiter and Hillock corner, where Christian had been hit by a car several months ago. Thinking back to the summer, Jen remembered how devastated she had been upon learning Christian would have to miss half of band camp due to his injuries. That incident paled in comparison to the fate Christian now suffered. A couple more tears slid down Jen's cheeks, but she quickly scrubbed them away, refusing to admit they were even there.

A minister dressed a somber and traditional black robes took his place in the pulpit. The undercurrent of sniffles and murmured conversation stopped short and silence echoed through the sanctuary. The minister cleared his throat and began, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to mourn the death of Christian Andrew Reynolds. Christian was taken well before his time by tragic heart failure. But he was, of course, a strong Christian and active member of this church, and I know our Lord has delivered him to a much better place than this earth. Though we will miss him dearly, Christian is now at peace. Let us pray.

"Lord, sometimes we do not understand your actions. But it is not our role to understand. We need only have faith and trust that your actions are all part of a greater plan that we cannot comprehend. But now, Lord, we ask you for strength to carry on through the gap that Christian has left behind. Lord, lay a loving hand on Kevin's and Sarah's shoulders, and let them know that their son is safely in your arms. Keep a watchful eye on Mike; he needs to know that you are near now that his brother isn't so close. Help us all though this time of grief, and keep we secure in the knowledge that Christian is home in your glorious Kingdom of Heaven. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, Amen."

"Amen," the assembled mourners echoed.

Jen opened her eyes and looked up at the minister in front of the colorful stained glass window. As he droned on and on about all of Christian's achievements and the positive aspects of his short life, Jen's mind wandered. She couldn't bear sitting still in the church any longer, looking at the coffin and knowing Christian was in it. She desperately tried to escape into a happy memory, but Christian haunted every one.

He had been there through the long sweaty days of band camp since freshmen year, the inside jokes to alleviate the torture of AP Lit, the soporific concerts of National Concert Band Festival their junior year, the graduation parties at the beginning of each summer. There was only once place Christian had not been: taekwondo. Jen gratefully dove into her martial arts memories like a knight putting on armor. She thought back to when she first started taking taekwondo several years ago, and the class she had learned her white belt form in. She coated her mind with memories of running endless laps around the do jang, of kicking the punching bags until the skin rubbed off her feet, of sparring matches that left her with an array of bruises of show off the next day at school. The do jang was the one place where Jen always felt free from any stressors.

"…and I know all of you will join us in mourning at the reception and burial thereafter," the minister finished. Jen refocused on reality as the do jang in her mind's eye melted into the sanctuary. She stood up with the rest of the crowd, stretched, and shuffled to the reception hall in the building adjacent to the sanctuary.

In the reception hall, Jen wandered around the room until she discovered Mike sitting in a puffy armchair with silent tears dripping down his face. Jen immediately wrapped him in an older sister kind of hug. Mike's silent tears became muffled sobs as he clung to Jen like a five-year-old for all that he was in eighth grade. "Jen, I miss him already," he lamented. "He's only been…g-gone three days, and it's already s-so…so different."

Jen put her hands on Mike's shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Mike, I've never lost a sibling, so I can't even begin to imagine how difficult this has to be for you. It's hard on me too. Christian was," Jen paused as tears threatened to flow out over her use of the past tense, "such a great friend. He was so understanding and always there to hear anyone out. Mike, listen. I'm here for you, whatever you need." Jen fished in her small purse for a pen and scrap of paper, and scribbled her cell phone number and screen name down on a business card from the Great Clips hair salon. If you need anything – someone to talk to, time away from your house, a ride somewhere – call me. I'll take care of you like a sister would, okay?"

Mike nodded a little numbly and took the wrinkled card. "Thanks," he whispered.

Jen hugged him again and said, "It'll be okay. Remember to be a brother Christian would be proud of."

Mike nodded again and stared determinedly at the floor as tears spilled down his face again. Jen gently wiped away his tears with the back of her hand and gave his shoulder a quick squeeze before walking outside.

In the parking lot, Jen gazed sadly at the cemetery with its fresh grave ready to receive Christian's coffin. Although Jen half wanted to stay for the burial, she simply couldn't take the whole atmosphere of the funeral anymore. She climbed in her Jeep and put in a mix CD Kayla made burned for her. She skipped to the seventh track: "Do or Die" by Papa Roach. The heavy beat was somehow soothing to Jen as she drove away from the church and all the traumatic events of the last week.

_It's never too late_

_To live your life_

_The time is now_

_It's do or die_

As the lyrics pounded out, Jen realized they were the absolute truth, and she had to live by them or collapse into failure and depression. "It's time to live my life," she told herself, "not waste it mourning over death."

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**A/N: **So, what did you think of the ending? Like it? Hate it? Too sad? I'm quite open to any type of feedback, positive or otherwise. 


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